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■ji New Hampshire Magazine, 


literature, History, and State Progress. 


-V^OILjTTIMIIE t-vsto 

concord, x. H. : 



r #?,* * 




Affections, The 171 

After Many Year*. 239 

All Through the Night, 230 

Aloft, 380 

Baker's River, 

Baker, Capt. Thomas and Madame Christine, 

his wife, 
Barton, Hon. Levi W. 
Birth-place of Gen. stark, 
Boston Port Bill, The 
Bryant, William Cnlleu 

Churches in Hopkinton, 
Coming of .June. The 
Congressional Papers, No 2, 
Congressional Papers, No. :>, 
Congressional Papers, No. 4. 
Congressional Papers, No. 5, 
Conioocook Kiver, 
Cr-nnwell. Oliver 
Currier, Hon. Moody 
Clarke, Col. John B. 
Cottage, A 

Day at Old Kittery, A 
Deacon's Praver, Tin- 
Dead of 1878, "The 
December 2, 1878, 
Decisions of Chief Justice Smith 

Early History of the Concord Press, 
Early History of the Methodists in New Hamp- 


First Congregational Church in Concord, 

Forest Vegetati >n in New Hampshire, 

Forgetfulness of Sorrow, 

From the German of Heine, 

Garrison, William Lloyd 
George, Col. John Hatch 
(iood Luck, 

Head, Gen. Natt 
Hutchinson, Major Samuel 

Hymn, A 

Hymnology of the Churches, 302, 

Illegible Manuscript in Printing Offices, 

In Batth- an. 1 in Prison, 

Industries in Hopkinton, 

In Ruins, 

Items and Incidents in Hopkinton, 304, 

Kearsarge Mountain, 

Lady Wentworth, The Home of 
Lancaster, An old Sketch of 
Lawyers and Politicians, 

Library Questions, 
Love Wins Love, 



















, 358 



Malaga, 14, 222 

Manners and Customs in Hopkinton, 

186, 217, 251, 27S 

Mary and Martha, 
Men and their Professions, 
Men of Old Nottingham at the Battle of Bun- 
ker Hill, 
Message, The 

Military Affairs in Hopkinton, 

Mt. Kearsarge, To 
My Friends and I— Memories, 7 

Nature's Creed, 

New Hampshire Hills, 131, 

New Hampshire Men at Bunker Hill, 

New Hampshire Seventh at Ft. Wagner, 

New London Centennial Address, 311, 341, 

Newspaper History, A Bit of 

Norris, Herbert F. 

Old Time Trip in New Hampshire, An 

Poem by Rev. Silvanus Hayward, 
Politics in Hopkinton, 
Potter, Richard, 

Proceedings of the New Hampshire Antiquari- 
an Society, 
Pure as the Lillies, 

Rhapsody on Old Clothes, A 
Reviewer Reviewed, A 

Sagamores of the Newichawannock, The two 

Sanborn, Dyer Hook, A. M. 
Senate and Its Presidents, The— Hon. David II. 

Shepard, Maj.-Geu. Amos 

State Senate of 1879-80, The 289, 

Stearns, Hon. Onslow 
Summers's Day, A 
Sunshine After Clouds, 

Thackeray, Lines on the Death of 

Town Histories, 

Traveling Accommodations in Hopkinton, 






30 9 








32 lT 



Wav to Grandpa's, The 
Weeks, Hon. Joseph D. 
Weston, Hon. James A. 
Widow's Mistake, The 












JULY, 1878. 

NO. 1 


While the Xew Hampshire House of 
Representatives is the largest legislative 
body in the country, our State Senate is, 
with one or two exceptions, the smallest. 
The amendment to the Constitution re- 
cently adopted, which is to go into effect 
the coming autumn, however, makes a 
marked change in this regard, for, while 
reducing somewhat the number of Rep- 
resentatives, it doubles the number of 
Senators, placing our own upon at least 
an average footing with the Senates of 
other States throughout the Union. 

Notwithstanding its comparative insig- 
nificance in point of numbers, the Xew 
Hampshire Senate has ever maintained 
an enviable reputation as an able, patri- 
otic and eminently conservative legisla- 
tive body. This is due largely, without 
doubt, to the fact that the office of State 
Senator has generally sought the man 
rather than the man the office. Dema- 
gogues and aspirants for popular favor, 
as well as active partisan leaders, have 
usually preferred seats in the House of 
Representatives, where as leaders of 
men and masters, or murderers, of rhet- 
oric they have greater opportunity for 
achieving distinction or notoriety. It is 
true that it has been often alleged that 
the Senate of our State is a dangerous 

'body, being easily corrupted or control- 
led, on account of the small number of 
members. This allegation, however, is 
an unjustifiable or inconsiderate one. 
When men's favorite measures are defeat- 
ed, they are wont to cry out " corrup- 
tion," or to allege other than patriotic 
motives as actuating those who caused 
their discomfiture, and it will generally 
be found that those who have charged 
the Senate with corrupt or improper ac- 
tion, have failed to secure at the hands of 
that body the passage or the defeat of 
some measure particularly affecting their 
own interests. The truth is, there is far 
more danger of bad legislation at the 
hands of a large and unwieldly body like 
our House of Representatives, than from 
a comparatively small body like the Sen- 
ate. In the former a shrewd political 
leader or designing demagague, through 
his personal influence over numerous fol- 
lowers may readily secure the passage of 
an unwise act, which, in the latter, where 
such a thing as leadership is seldom 
known or attempted, and each individual 
member, as a general rule, acts and thinks 
for himself, could never have been car- 
ried through. The Senate, therefore, ex- 
ercising its conservative power, through 
amendment or rejection, has protected 


the people from ill advised and even dan- 
•:huu^ lei'iriuiiciu io a fTeatcr or less ex- 
tent every year. 

While the task of presiding- over the 
deliDt rations of the Senate is far less dif- 
ficult and laborious than that devolving 
upon the Speaker of the House, the posi- 
tion is, nevertheless, one of honor and 
distinction, and has been occupied by 
many illustrious citizens of the State. 
Sixty-two persons, in all, have holden 
the office of President of the Senate dur- 
ing the eighty-five years since the adop- 
tion of the Constitution of 1792. Fol- 
lowing are their names, with their sever- 
al places of residence and years of ser- 

Abiel Foster, Canterbury— 1793 ; Oliver 
Peabody, Exeter — 1794 ; Ebenezer Smith, 
Meredith— 1795-6: Amos Shepard, Al- 
stead— 1794 to 1S03. inclusive; Nicholas 
Gilmau, Exeter— 1804; Clement Storer, 
Portsmouth, 1805-6; Samuel Bell, Fran- 
ce stown— 1807-S ; Moses P. Payson. Bath 
—1809; Win. Plumer, Epping— 1S10-11 ; 
Joshua Darling,. Ilenniker— 1812; Oliver 
Peabody, Exeter— 1813; Moses P. Pay- 
son, 1814-15; William Badger, Gilman- 
ton — 1816; Jonathan Harvey, Sutton — 
1S17 to 1S22, inclusive; David L. Morrill, 
Goffstown— 1S23 ; Josiah Bartlett, Strat- 
ham — 1S24; Matthew Harvey, Hopkin- 
ton— 1825-6-7 ; Nahura Parker, Fitzwil- 
liarn— 1828; Abner Greenleaf. Ports- 
mouth, and Samuel Cartland, Haverhill — 
1829; Joseph M. Harper, Canterbury — 
1830; Samuel Cartland. Haverhill, and 
Benning M. Bean. Moultonborough — 
1831; Benning M. Bean. 1832; Jared W. 
Williams. Lancaster — 1833-4; Charles F. 
Gove, Goffstown— 1835; James Clark, 
Franklin— 1836; John Woodbury. Salem 
—1837; Samuel Jones, Bradford— 1838; 
James M. Wilkins. Bedford— 1839; James 
B. Creighton, Newmarket — 1840: Josiah 
Quincy, Kumney— 1S41-2 ; Titus Brown, 
Francestown — 1843; Timothy Hoskins, 
Westmoreland — 1844; Asa P. Cate, 
Northtield— 1845 : James U. Parker, Man- 
chester— 1S46; Harry Hibbard, Bath— 
1847-8; William P. Weeks, Canaan— 
1849; Richard Jenness, Portsmouth — 
1850; John S. Wells, Exeter— 1851-2; 
James M. Rix. Lancaster — 1853; Jona- 

than E. Sargent, Went worth — 1854; Wil- 
liam Ilnile. Hinsdale — 1855: Thomas J. 
Melvin, Chester — 1856; Moody Currier, 
Manchester— 1857; Austin F. Pike, 
Franklin — 1858 ; Joseph A. Gilmore, Con- 
cord — 1S59; George S. Towle. Lebanon 
— 1S60; Herman Foster, Manchester — 
1861 ; W. H. Y. Hackett, Portsmouth— 
1862; Onslow Stearns. Concord— 1863; 
Charles H. Bell, Exeter— 1S64; Ezekiel 

A. Straw, Manchester — 1865 ; Daniel 
Barnard, Franklin— 1866; Win. T. Par- 
ker, Merrimack — 1867; Ezra A. Stevens, 
Portsmouth— 1S68; John Y. Mugridge, 
Concord— 1869; Nathaniel Gordon, Exe- 
ter— 1870; G. W. M. Pitman, Bartlett— 
1871; Charles H. Campbell. Nashua — 
1872; David A. Warde, Concord— 1873 ; 
Wm. H. Gove, Weare— 1874; John W. 
Sanborn, Wakefield— 1S75; Charles Hol- 
man, Nashua — 1876; Natt Head, Hook- 
sett— 1877 ; David H. Buffum, Somers- 
worth — 1878. 

Of this list, eleven also held the office 
of Speaker of the House of Representa- 
tives, viz : William Plumer, Samuel Bell, 
Clement Storer. David L. Morrill, Mat- 
thew Harvey, John S. Wells, Harry Hib- 
bard, Jonathan E. Sargent, Charles H. 
Bell, Austin F. Pike and William H. 
Gove. Of these eleven, three, only, are 
now living — Messrs. Sargent, Bell and 
Pike, and the two former are members of 
the present House. Twelve of the num- 
ber held seats in the national House of 
Representatives, of whom Austin F. Pike 
is the only one now living; seven were 
members of the United States Senate, 
none of whom survive; and ten were 
Governors of New Hampshire, viz: Wil- 
liam Plumer, Samuel Bell. David L. Mor- 
rill, Matthew Harvey, William Badger^ 
Jared W. Wiiliatns, William Haile, Jo- 
seph A. Gilmore, Onslow Stearns and 
Ezekiel A. Straw, of whom the two last 
only are living at the present time. Of 
the entire sixty-two, twenty-two are now 
living, the oldest survivor being James 

B. Creighton of Newmarket, who was 
President of the Senate in 1S40. 

In considering the list with refeaence 
to localities, we find that of the several 
counties, or the towns composing them. 
Rockingham has furnished fifteen of the 


s '•- 


entire number, and Merrimack also fif- 
teen ; Hillsborough has furnished thir- 
teen, Grafton seven, Cheshire four, 
Carroll three, and Belknap and Coos two 
each, while Sullivan has furnished none. 
Of the fifteen from Rockingham, five 
each were furnished by Portsmouth and 
Exeter. Concord has supplied four, 
Manchester four and Nashua two, but 
Dover has never had a President of the 
Senate, nor has District Xo. Five in which 
it is embraced, including the main por- 
tion of Strafford County, as now consti- 
tuted, until the election of Hon. David 
H. Buff u m of Somersworlb, the present 
year. While a large proportion and per- 
haps a majority of those who have held 
the office of President of the Senate have 
been members of the legal profession, 
the Senate has usually contained among 
its members a large comparative repre- 
sentation of the business men of the 
State. A few clergymen, and physicians 
— Rev. Abiel Foster, a distinguished pat- 
riot and member of the Continental Con- 
gress, and Josiah Bartlett and Joseph M. 
Harper, both subsequently members of 

Congress, the former a clergyman and 
the two latter physicians, being among 
the number — have held seats in this body, 
but it has generally numbered more busi- 
ness men— merchants, manufacturers, etc., 
than representatives of the professions. 
To this fact, perhaps, may be attributed 
in large degree, the practical and conser- 
vative tendency of the Senatorial body 
in the work of legislation. 

The present Senate contains one phy- 
sician — Dr. Gallinger of Concord, (Dis- 
trict Xo. Four,) three lawyers— Messrs. 
Cogswell of Gilmanton (Xo. G,) White of 
Peterborough, (Xo. 8.) and Weeks of 
Canaan. (Xo. 11.) one farmer — Mr. Phil- 
brick of Rye, (Xo. 1,) while the remain- 
ing seven arc all business men, Messrs. 
Wheeler of Salem (Xo. 2,) BufTum of 
Somersworth (Xo. 5,) and Amidon of 
Hinsdale (Xo. 9,) being manufacturers, 
Mr. Slayton of Manchester (Xo. 3.) a 
merchant, Mr. Spalding of Xashua (Xo. 
7.) a bank cashier, Mr. Shaw of Leba- 
non (Xo. 10,) a contractor, and Mr. 
Cummings of Lisbon (Xo. 12,) a mer- 
chant and manufacturer. The President, 


therefore, is a representative of the dom- 
luftitt chrss. ?* weii as oj hMfoe \ * > 1 i * jcal ma- 
jority in the body over which he presides. 

Hon. David H. Buffum, President of 
the Senate, whose portrait accompanies 
this article, is a native of the State of 
Maine, which State, by the way, has con- 
tributed comparatively few to the list of 
the public men of New Hampshire, al- 
though on our part we have furnished 
Maine several of her ablest and most dis- 
tinguished citizens, including Fessenden, 
Clifford, Cutting, Plaisted, and others of 
both State and National reputation. Mr. 
Buffum was born in North Berwick, No- 
vember 10, 1S20, being now fifty-seven 
years of age. He was the eldest child 
and only son of Timothy and Anna (Aus- 
tin) Buffum. His father died when he 
was only six years of age. leaving his 
mother— a daughter of Nathaniel Austin 
of Dover Neck — with very little proper- 
ty and three small children, there being 
two daughters, younger than himself, 
both of whom are now living, one being 
the widow of the late John H. Burleigh 
of South Berwick, and the other the wife 
of Isaac P. Evans of Pichmond, Ind. 
After his father's decease, he was taken 
into the family of an uncle, Benajah Buf- 
fum, with whom he remained until he 
was seventeen years of age, engaged for 
the larger portion of the time in a coun- 
try store, of which his uncle was the pro- 
prietor, and where he laid the foundation 
for his subsequent eminently successful 
business career. His educational advanta- 
ges up to this time, were only such as 
were afforded by the common school; 
but of these he had made the best possi- 
ble use. 

When he was seventeen years of age, 
his uncle sold out and went to Lynn, 
Mass., where he engaged in business. 
He accompanied his uncle, but remained 
with him but a few months, returning to 
his native place, where he made his home 
for a time with his step-father, Mr. Wra. 
Hussey— his mother having married a 
second time. He attended the fall term 
of South Berwick Academy the follow- 
ing autumn, and in the winter, being 
then eighteen years old , taught a district 
school in North Berwick. In the spring 

following he again attended the Acade- 
my* He h?d cOurfacDocel i©&£b.i»g asrain 
the next autumn, but left his school to 
accept a position as clerk in the general 
store of William and Hiram Hanson in 
the village of Great Falls, Somersworth, 
which place has ever since been his home. 
He remained in the employ of the Han- 
son's about two years, when, being then 
twenty-one years of age, he bought the 
interest of William Hanson in the store 
and went into partnership with Hiram, 
under the firm name of Hanson & Buf- 
fum. Two years later the partnership 
was dissolved, and Mr. Buffum commenc- 
ed the erection of the large brick block, 
known as Buffum's Block, upon the op- 
posite side of High street from the old 
stand. This block contained three stores, 
one of which Mr. Buffum occupied him- 
self, in the same business in which he bad 
been engaged, until March, 1S47, when 
he disposed of the business to attend to 
his duties as cashier of the Great Falls 
Bank, to which position he was chosen 
the previous year, and which he held for 
a term of seventeen years, until 1863, 
having also for six years been treasurer 
of the Somersworth Savings Bank. In 
1S63, Mr. Buffum resigned as cashier and 
treasurer of the banks, to take the man- 
agement of the Great Falls Woolen Mill, 
a corporation which he had been chiefly 
instrumental in organizing, and whose 
manufactory had been commenced the 
previous year, under a joint stock ar- 
rangement. He held the position of 
agent, treasurer and general manager of 
the corporation for ten years, devoting 
himself untiringly to the business, which 
he conducted with great success. The 
capital stock of the corporation, which 
was originally §50,000, was subsequently 
increased, from the earnings, to 8100,000. 
In 1S73, having impaired his health by 
close and continued application to busi- 
ness, Mr. Buffum withdrew from the ac- 
tive management of the affairs of the 
corporation, and was succeeded by his 
brother-in-law, Mr. Stickney, the pres- 
ent agent. He spent several months in 
the autumn of that year in Colorado, and 
the spring of 1874 in California, and re- 
turned home with restored health. 


Several years previous to the organiza- 
tion of the Great Falls Woolen Company 
Mr. Buttttm had taken a large intere; c in 
a similar enterprise at South Berwick, 
known as the Xewichawanick Company, 
of which his brother-in-law, the late 
Hon. John H. Burleigh, was the active 
manager, they two, with the well known 
" Friend" Hill being the principal stock- 
holders, which enterprise, although a 
losing one at first, ultimately proved 
very successful. After the sudden and 
startling death of Mr. Burleigh, a few 
months since, Mr. Buff una was chosen 
treasurer of the Xewichawanick Com- 
pany. Aside from these important man- 
ufacturing enterprises, he has been for 
several years a partner with L. R. Her- 
som in the wool pulling and sheep-skin 
tanning establishment on Berwick side 
at Great Falls, and has, furthermore, ex- 
tensive manufacturing interests at Milton 

As would naturally be inferred from 
the foregoing, Mr. Buffutn has not been 
largely engaged in public and political 
life. He has, however, had sufficient ex- 
perience in that direction, taken in con- 
nection with his knowledge of practical 
business affairs, to qualify him for the 
efficient discharge of the duties now de- 
volving upon him as a servant of the peo- 
ple, in the important office which he 
holds. He was chosen Town Clerk of 
Somersworth in March, 1842. it being the 
election at which he cast his first vote, 
and was re-elected the following year. 
In 184G he waselected a member of the 
board of Selectmen, and was subsequent- 
ly several times elected to the same posi- 
tion. In 1SG1 and I8G2 he was one ol the 
members of the House of Representa- 
tives from Somersworth, serving the first 
year as a member of the committee on 
Banks and the second year as chairman 
of the committee on the Reform School. 
In 18G3, Mr. Buff urn was the Republican 
candidate for Railroad Commissioner, 
running upon the ticket with Governor 
Gilmore. A third ticket placed in the 
field, defeated an election by the people, 
but the Republican candidates were cho- 
sen by the Legislature, and Mr. Buifum 

served as a member of the board of Rail- 
road Commissioners for the full term of 
febree \c-u>. In the spring of 1875, hi* 
name was brought forward, though 
against his wish, by some of his friends. 
in the Republican Senatorial Convention 
in District Xo. 5, and he received a very 
flattering vote. Last year he was again 
supported and received the nomination, 
by nearly a unanimous vote, his election 
following as a matter of course. He 
served with ability in the last Senate, 
as a member of the several committees 
on Judiciary, Finance, Banks and State 
Institutions, and although one of three 
members of the majority party, re-elect- 
ed this year, he was accorded the Presi- 
dency by common consent. Among his 
associates in the Senate last year were 
three men who were fellow members in 
the House fifteen years ago. viz : Messrs. 
John F. Cloutman of Farmington, Xatt 
Head of Hooksett, and James Burnap of 
Marlow. In the present Senate, there 
are also two members who were members 
of the House with Mr. Buff um— Messrs. 
Amidon of Hinsdale and Shaw of Leba- 

Mr. Buffum was married, January 26, 
1853, to Charlotte E. Stickney, daughter 
of Alexander H. Stickney of Great Falls. 
who deceased March 8, 186S, leaving him 
four children, three sons and a daughter, 
the latter also now deceased. The three 
sons, Edgar Stickney, Harry Austin, and 
David Hanson, are respectively twenty- 
two, twenty, and fifteen years of age. 
The oldest graduated at Yale College last 
year, and is now learning the manufac- 
turing business in the woolen mill at. 
Great Falls; the second is a member of 
the junior class at ^ale, and the young- 
est remains at home. 

Mr. Buffum's religious associations are 
with the Congregational church, where 
he attends public worship regularly and 
contributes liberally for its support, 
though not a member of the church or- 
ganization. By strict integrity and cour- 
teous and gentlemanly bearing, he has 
secured the esteem of all classes of hi3 
fellow citizens who rejoice in his success 
both in private and public life. 




From the towering hills — over Dorthward they rear — 

Whose mosses are fanned by the whispering breeze, 
Happy homes, far bele.w in the valley, appear 

To gaze upward in love thro' their tail shading trees. 
Not a ripple disturbing the mirror beyond! 

With its beauty unbroken the scene becomes new, 
Save where Purity rests in embraces so fond 

As the lily peeps into the sky's liquid blue. 

On the deep fringed shore the sad willow droops low 
And is plaintively whispering %k doomed to bemoan!" 

But the wave as it rises will soothingly flow, 

Bringing kisses of sweetness for willows alone. 

And the hills in their grandeur these things comprehend, 
Standing forth in protection above this retreat, 

Seeming calmly to speak wl we will last to the end, 
Keeping safe each warm heart till it ceases to beat! " 

For a moment descend, ye time-fading old hills, 

To the homes that seem happy and peaceful below; 
Fause and listen to discord of numberless ills, 

See how thankless thy mission their malice would show! 
For the towering domes mounting upward toward thee 

As if thou to outreach in their heavenward flight, 
Seem to speak of a faith which from sin pardons free 

In the place of a war that would sadden the sight. 

Each tall spire, as upward it rises on high 

Looks in anger across at its neighboring foe, 
And a battle goes on and opinions reply 

How we safest and surest may heavenward go. 
As the eye of the pilgrim and sinner spells out 

All the guideboards to happiness, heaven and love, 
On his ear harshly falling each deepening shout, 

He will heed not their warning — " They lead not above! " 

From the discordant valley his sick soul he turns 

A deliy' ranee to seek from the medley of creeds ; 
For his being is stirred, in a fever it burns. 

And cries out for a balm that will reach all its needs. 
Up the brow of a hill with a soul-stricken mein, 

Till the summit is reached he waits not to rest — 
Then he turns and is spellbound by rapture so keen — 

All beneath him, around him. in beauty is dressed ! 


The grand scene lies before him in quiet repose, 

On the calm, sleeping lake, his glad vision returns, 
^Nature's harmony there his rague dowtetififg ^>\. :i.: \-,'z— 

From the joy m his soul the true way he learns! 
God is speaking in nature; once more by the breeze 

Gently points to the spires— they something would say 
As they lift up their heads from among the tall trees — 

Chanted softly it comes — " we all point the same way." 



The day is done, and the darkness 
Falls from the wings of night. 

As a feather is wafted downward 
From an eagle in its flight. 


I have been standing with my face to 
the eastern window, watching the day- 
light fade away, and the night come 
down so gloriously, and the starry senti- 
nels as one by one they take their sta- 
tions in the deep-blue vault above. I was 
gazing dreamily, scarce knowing or car- 
ing why, when a meteor, a swift gliding 
star that seemed to have been resting in 
its allotted place near the zenith, left its 
throne of glory and went suddenly rush- 
ing down the farther sky, vanishing be- 
low the dim horizon, leaving behind a 
long train of fading splendor, as quickly 
to be gathered up. like stray sunbeams. 

Why may not our lives be thus, 1 
mused, scattering blessings, as a train of 
brilliants, along our illuminated path- 
way ? 

But how incidents and happenings, 
trivial enough in themselves, sometimes 
will send our minds a wandering: and 
how one idea will follow another, until 
our thoughts run riot, like school-boys 
chasing butterflies in meadow pastures, 
running and leaping and singing with 
the mountain brook, hunting birds' nests 
in sunny glades, gathering nuts among 
the squirrel-haunted beech-woods. 

These sudden flashes or passages of 
thought from one subject to another are 
sometimes quite startling, and yet there 
seems to be a sort of a gliding along, per- 
haps by association. 

Just now, as that flying meteor went 
shedding its glories adown the east, it 
suggested — for it is the Christmas night — 
thoughts of that piloting orb which start- 
led the shepherds, two thousand years 
ago, from their oriental slumbers upon 
the hills of Judea, and guided the 
Heaven-appointed seekers to the feet of 
the infant author of that simple faith 
which cheers the hearts of men wherever 
the story of the Christ- child is told 
among the sons and daughters of earth, 
to this day. 

And perhaps that same gliding star 
that eveu now scattered its scintillations 
above this western world, may be look- 
ing down upon some weary watcher upon 
Bethlehem's plain, as he listens beneath 
a waving palm-tree for the muezzin's call 
to prayer at the first flush of expected 

" Now comes a flood of overwhelming 
memories, and, seated by the firelight in 
my little library, I have been watching 
the cheerful glow of the bright-red coals, 
and dreaming away an hour in reveries 
whereof I must tell you, and if you list- 
en you will know why that gleaming 
star, hastening beyond the east, suggest- 
ed these musings; or, if £ can put them 
to paper, and you follow my pen, you 
may see, although I shall fail to make 
them as interesting to you as I could 

We will not call it a story, but rather 
a history, for it is a narrative of events 
in the lives of two young hearts, eveu- 


while dwellers in a quiet Xew Hamp- 
shire village. 

Iliad a friend once, and eor^pairoj, ha 
one of those j T ears which we wish to 
remember and dream of. He was my 
junior by a year or two, but my superior 
in everything. How I loved his ardent 
nature, his great warm heart, void of all 
selfishness: how I admired his manly 
form, his brilliant intellect, and look, 
now, after this score and more of years, 
into his clear earnest eye, and worship 
the memory of his noble soul, of his bet- 
ter life ! 

It was during our later school-days 
that we first met ; on one of those days 
between weeks, when, relieved from the 
weariness of conning eur text-books, we 
sought that freedom which nature gives, 
and by shadowy, untrodden paths 
climbed a mountain slope, and upon its 
rock-crowned, topmost peak introduced 
ourselves to each other and to the world 
above us ; not that there was any formal 
ceremony, for it was many days after 
that ere we exchanged names, or even 
thought of it. But we were acquainted, 

You know it is alwaj's so in our every- 
day life; it is a certain principle of at- 
traction and repulsion in our natures. 
What was it about that gentleman you 
called my attention to yesterday, as we 
were riding in the street car, that caused 
such a repulsiveness of feeling? It was 
nothing in outward appearance, for he 
was scrupulously and faultlessly dressed. 
Then why, I ask, that instantaneous, un- 
taught repudiation independent of will 
or wisdom ? And what was there in that 
sunny face and in those soul-stirring 

made together, my friend and I. and 
many pleasures unknown we sought in 
feb-e i'oros:-? prrci m&o&g the hlli?< w r he*ci» 
er the wildness and the beauty of the 
scenery won us. I am not going to give 
you a narration of those experiences, lest 
they prove wearisome, but pass on to the 
incidents I intended to sketch. 

My student life over, I entered into the 
more practical and busy affairs of life, 
leaving my friend to pursue his studies 
and strive for the fulfilment of his high 
ambition, which was a noble one. %W I 
would be great," he said one day, as we 
stood upon an eminence, overlooking the 
little world of country around us, "I 
would go through the world like this 
wind, girded with power to freshen and 
purify, to sweep away old wrongs and 
prejudices, just as these leaves of autumn 
are scattered. I would stir the thoughts 
of men as these trees are stirred, and 
with words that would go echoing down 
the corridors of time. I would possess 
a knowledge of all lauds and all nations ; 
I would walk in the footsteps of the old 
masters, and muse above he ashes of de- 
parted greatness. I would wander 
among the time-hallowed ruins of Greece 
and Rome, and look upon those pyra- 
midal monuments of ancient glory in the 
land of the Pharaohs; dream among 
those desolate ruins of antique palaces, 
the halls of Karnak and the temples of 
Luxor, century-laden relics of a mum- 
mied age. Or what more worth the liv- 
ing for than to see the sun rise above 
Olivet's sacred mount, or his glorious 
setting beyond the hills and forests of 
Lebanon? Think of bathing one's life- 
stained limbs in the waters of the Jor- 

eyes that we passed upon the corner of dan, and baring his forehead to the dewy 

the street to-day that caused us to stop 
and admire, and others to listen and 
smile, not guessing why? It was not 
that he was entertaining a little girlish 
sunbeam there, for the one in the car 
strove to awaken a child's love for nov- 
elty, but failed to interest, and the boy 
shrank away repelled. But I leave the 
why for philosophers to answer; we can 
know the facts. 

But I was going to tell you ; this was 
the first of many pilgrimages that we 

winds of Hermonl What more inspir- 
ing, think you, than to lie in the star- 
light of Bethlehem, gazing upon the 
misty outlines of the hills and valleys 
that had known the wanderings of the 
' Son of Man ;' or upon the hillside 
above the vale of Jehosaphat, watching 
the moonlight creeping over and around 
the walls of the 'City of David,' and 
across the hills of Judea, lighting up the 
shadows in Gethsemane's garden, and 
Bllyerjng the disturbed waters of far Gal- 



jlee! Didst never think, oh, friend of 
mine, that that same calm moon and 
those changeless watchers in heavens 
blue vault, which we so love to worship, 
looked down, in the ages that were, upon 
the scenes and incidents of * Holy Laud'?' 
Didst never ask them, in your home in 
the up country, to tell you the story of 
that legendary eastern clime and the 
4 Boy of Nazareth?'" 

I bade Wilbur Austin a reluctant good- 
bye that night, and saw him not again 
for many months ; then our meeting was 
in this wise : In one of those far-off 
years of mine, full of rovings here and 
there, a soft, star-lit evening in early au- 
tumn found me at a quiet New Hamp- 
shire village. Many such are found at 
short intervals, scattered throughout the 
Connecticut valley, set like constellation 
gems along that watery way. 

You may know the place; near where 
a spur of those grand old hills sets down 
his granite foot far across the valley, and 
the river goes fretting around it as 
though disturbed at the intended barrier. 
11 Moosilauke," overlooking his humbler 
neighbors, lifts his shaggy summit into 
cloud-land toward the east. 
■ There is a long avenue, the village 
street, stretching away beneath a shad- 
ow of wide-spreading elms, older than 
the century. A miniature park invites 
the wayfarer into its semi-solitude, and 
here the purple twilight falls early, for 
the sun sets before its time to the villag- 
ers atween the hills, and night comes 
down slowly. 

Leisurely sauntering, almost unmind- 
ful, I lent a listening ear to the quaint 
6ong of a whippoorwill. sent from the 
gray cliffs a little back from the village 
street, and heard above the whisperings 
of winds and waters down below. 

But now voices, less inspiring perhaps, 
but quite as familiar, aroused me from 
dreamy reveries, and, pausing, 1 became 
an involuntary though not an unwilling 
listener. I could not be mistaken ; it was 
the voice of m} r old friend, though to- 
night somewhat tremulous and sad, and 
I knew the deep springs of his soul were 
stirred to their lowest depths and were 
welling up, up. I landed I could hear 

other tones, too, of a crushed and fear- 
ful anguish, as of a heart bowed down. 

'• if ■: . .':; p '..::r\ i- ra&si be ><>; the 
cup is bitter, but it must be drained. I 
had anticipated no objection from your 
father to the realization of our fondest 
hopes. I know I am altogether unwor- 
thy your hand or your love, but some- 
how I had dared to hope, too fondly, 
alas, that our happiness was not to be 
disturbed in this way; but since the fiat 
has been spoken, I shut my eyes upon 
the bright picture of our future, tinted 
by 'love's young dream,' and shall open 
them on the morrow to the stern realities 
of the * it must be so.' I love you too 
well to have you incur parental displeas- 
ure or sow the seeds for future unhappi- 
ness and sorrowful regrets. To-morrow 
I go to wander I know not whither, and 
we maj T never meet again, but I would 
not have you forget me soon, nor our 
brief dream of bliss, whether I tarry 
among the sunny scenes of life or go 
away beyond the hills of earth. On some 
quiet evening of midsummer, when there 
are no dampening shadows between the 
flowers and the stars we so love for com- 
panionship, and when the silvery moon- 
light creeps over the hilltop yonder and 
down into the valley, weaving around 
the soul its wizard spell, go out then 
upon the river's bank, and beneath the 
1 old oak ' whose waving branches shel- 
ter the rock-hewn seat where we so oft 
have sat in the gloaming, listening to the 
wild songs of evening and watching the 
night come down with all the stars — sit 
there, I say, in the old familiar spot, and 
know for a verity, if the soul is superior 
to the clay, I will sit beside you, and we 
will talk of the past and its memories. 
And why not? Since sprits may com- 
mune with each other after this earthy 
form is abandoned, why may they not, 
too, while the blood is warm and the 
cheeks aglow and the eyes are bright?" 

For many minutes there was no re- 
sponse, save in stifled sobs, and I could 
almost realize there was raging in the 
depths of some pure soul a tempest of in- 
tense love and emotion, and in his an in- 
describable and tumultuous agony. At 
length she spoke, and her voice was 



calm, save a lingering tremuiousness : 
kt And is this the end. dear Will? Must 

my father think by driving you hence to 
turn my thoughts and affections into an- 
other and unnatural channel? It can nev- 
er be. Wherever you may go, rest assured 
my heart goes with you. Time,3 r ouknow, 
is the mother of change, and we may be 
happy yet. As the months go away, my 
father niay relent, and see in a strong, 
noble soul, armed with true manhood, 
more of real worth than in the gold and 
glitter and lands of a cold-hearted man 
of the world. But, Will, it is hard to say 
goodbye — almost harder than I can bear. 
I must commence a new life, for all my 
present life and love will be gone, per- 
haps forever. But I will find companion- 
ship in our old haunts ; I shall be alone on 
the bank of the river, where the shadows 
come and go, and there is wild melody of 
wind and waves ; out upon the hillside at 
the foot of the cliff, where the night-bird 
sings the daylight away, and where we 
so love to worship the moon and the star- 
light as they come glinting into the even- 
ing sky ; up in the glen, so full of sweet 
solitude, and where the laughing brook 
babbles among the rocks and the mosses. 
But, dear Will, should you never return 
to these scenes ; should death come to 
you in a distant land — and now her voice 
became broken — I will name a tryst, and 
you shall treasure it in memory with this 
love of ours : If you go hence before me 
you shall be first to greet me upon the 
other shore; but if I tarry not long with 
these friends of earth, and your mission 
be not yet fulfilled, so I meet you not 
over there, my kiss shall awaken you 
upou that glorious morning. Shall it 
not be thus?" 

'• We will live and die in that memory, 
dear Ellen." 

Just then a ray of moonlight stole in 
through the branches, and she blushed 
not to see two white arms wound 
around a manly neck, and a love- 
ly form pressed lovingly to a breast 
where beat as noble a heart as ever 
warmed with human love; and I am 
very sure that compact was sacredly 
sealed with pure and ardent lips. 

The intruder upon that sacred scene 
has long since been forgiven the innova- 
tion. It ."Tir my-kifceBtioe tfi steal ".-ay 
unnoticed with this unsought secret, and 
was moving with that purpose when a 
peculiar but well-remembered signal ar- 
rested my steps. I had beard it often in 
those days of which I mentioned— those 
later school days— and I obeyed its call 
with as much pleasure and alacrity as 
did my old friend a similar summons 
from me in one of our adventurous holi- 
day excursions, whereof I may sometime 
tell you, but not now. 

So novel a meeting would, under or- 
dinary circumstances, have proved a 
very enjoyable one. for he was a glorious 
talker, and we would have walked and 
talked the night hours away and bridged 
over the almost three years of separation 
with the events of the lapsed period, 
whereof each formed a part, and of oth- 
er days and their memories; but I knew 
the heart of my friend was o'er-tilled 
with sad thoughts and dreary forebod- 
ings, and that of his.fair companion, who 
clung so trustingly to his side as we 
strolled leisurely along toward her home 
among the maples, was brimming with 
meditations too sacred to commit to 
words ; so I ventured not to turn the 
current of their moody reflections by 
idle, common-place utterences of my own. 
I shrank from entering the consecrated 
precincts where those agonized souls 
were worshipping at the shrine of true 
and holy love; so I awaited in silence, 
making companionship with the God- 
given glories of that summer evening, 
and turning at times with frank emotion 
to do homage to the world of beauty 
and true womanly loveliness that 
gleamed with heavenly radiance from 
the bright but sad young face of Ellen 

Once, only once, was the silence brok- 
en by aught of the lips' expression : 

" Better die then, since life has lost its 
joy; it were better to die that the aching 
heart may be at rest." 

" Xo, dear Ellen, not so, for 'the dark- 
est day wait till to-morrow wilL have 
passed away,' and these murky clouds 
may be hiding from us their sun-illu- 



mined face ; after frost and the dreariness 
of winter come the flowers and the joys 
of spring." 

The air had grown chilly and the even- 
ing far spent when we said "good-night" 
to Miss Ellen at the wayside gate lead- 
ing to her father's house, where we left 
her in care of " Old Black Ben," the 
faithful house-dog. who came bounding 
down the walk to meet his young mis- 
tress. The moon smiled again as Will 
dropped a kiss upon those dewy lips, and 
entreating her to cheerful rest unmind- 
ful of to-morrow's adieus, he took my 
arm and we moved away in silence. 
"Wrapping my cloak more closely about 
me to keep out the evening's damp, and 
lighting a cigar from Will's well-tilled 
case, we wandered out into the starlight 
and adown the road by the river's bank. 
Had our hearts been free from this un- 
timely sadness, and our spirits light as 
in those merry, happy days I wot of, we 
should have lain ourselves upon the 
grass, or upon some moss-upholstered 
rock beside the river, and, disturbed by 
no sound save those musical murmurs 
which we always loved, we would have 
talked the moon from out the sky, and 
the stars be3*ond the western hills; but 
now almost in painful silence the time 
sped along until the •'High Rock'' 
was passed, where the waters fretted so 
madly, and the cold gray walls of the 
11 Haunted House" became dimly visible 
in the shadow of the " Hill of Pines." 
Here the wind sighed heavily, in sympa- 
thy, I suppose, with our saddest spirits. 
At the " Rustic Bridge" over the " Hem- 
lock Brook," we turned to retrace our 
steps, and as villageward we wended 
our way, I learned what I was most 
wishing to hear from the lips of my old 
companion: the events of his life during 
the long months since that morning in a 
late autumn, when we. at a riverside de- 
pot, exchanged farewells, (and old hats. 
too, in memoriam, as I well remember), 
I. to step out into the world of busy life, 
he to return to the halls of learning. 
And most of all I wished to know of 
this late episode, this life of a lover, 
an interesting scene of which I had but 
now been an incidental witness. Gradu- 

ally and strangely it unfolded, and I 
learned how, soon after I left him at 
school, the remittances from his agent 
or guardian grew smaller and less fre- 
quent, until one bright morning he 
awoke to learn that he was penniless. 
The small fortune that was left him by 
his father having been turned into cash 
by the miscreant in whose care it was 
placed, and he having lied with his ill- 
gotten gain to parts unknown. 

Having fully satisfied himself of the 
fact, and deeming the recovery of it, or 
even the criminal himself, surrounded by 
an impenetrable shadow of doubts, he 
turned his attention to the realities of his 
new circumstances, and set about buckling 
on the armor of manhood to engage in 
the real battle of life. With extreme re- 
luctance he severed his connection with 
the institution he had chosen as his Al- 
ma Mater, and gave up all idea of a com- 
plete college course. His little affairs, 
the necessary outgrowth of a student's 
life, weje soon arranged, and he left in 
the care of a friend his nucleus of a li- 
brary, and other accumulated effects, 
among which was a superb " Madonna " 
•by some unknown author. This my 
friend greatly cherished, avering and al- 
ways dreaming it the prototype of one 
yet to be found in all maidenly loveli- 
ness in some of the by-ways of the " yet 
to be." I shall never forget that artist's 
conception. I think one could sit for 
hours gazing into those dreamy eyes, 
and then the countenance! it seems im- 
possible that so much loveliness could 
be put upon canvas, so life-like was it ! 
such matchless lips ! so rich, soft cheeks ! 
and then there was a world of womanly 
loveliness and depth of soul beaming 
from out her gentle face. 

You know there are few paintings rep- 
resenting the * l Holy Mother" that are 
particularly striking, save as works of 
art. but this one of which I write, ap- 
pealed to the heart; and one went out 
from it always with lingering dreams of 
those dove-like eyes beaming upon him 
from soul-full features. 

Thus much have I said of this picture 
without intending it, but you will par- 
don me when 1 say. that although a score 


of years of life's experiences have left come for thera, and then, sadly, but with 

thMr impress hero, yet the memory of hope and purpose strong, he stepped out 

that angenc lace lingers as bright as a 10 uu and dare; a muu among men, in 

dream of Heaven. and of the world. 
But I was saying: these he left with a 

,. , -w- , . . ciuytu* CONCLUDED NEXT MONTH. 

friend until time and circumstances should 



Some precious moments of forgetfulness 

I gain from out the web and woof of time, 
Faint snatches from the future's perfect chime, 
That fall upon the heart like a caress 
Given by the soul that's steeped In tenderness : 
Peace wraps me like a mantle, faith is mine, 
And all my hopes in greater beauty shine, 
Lit with a radiance that disarms distress. 
Such hours do seem strange notes of harmony 

From heavenly choirs that reach me dwelling here 
"Within the house of my mortality, 

Blinded, yet listening, albeit the soul's ear 
Is dull and heavy, not what it will be 
When the whole glorious strain, sweet, soft and clear, 
Shall sound in ceaseless music through its sphere. 



There are different divisions of Method- 
ists, but those most common in this sec- 
tion of the country, and the largest body 
of them, are called Episcopal Methodists. 
The denomination originated in England 
in 1739, mainly under the labors of Rev. 
John Wesley. A society was formed in 
London, and one in Bristol soon after. 
The corner-stone of the first Methodist 
meeting house was laid May 12, 1739. 
The annual conference of their ministers 
is peculiar to the denomination, and the 
first commenced in London, June 25, 
1744, and consisted of six members. 

The first Methodist Society in this 
country was organized in New York 

City in 17GG. It was composed of immi- 
grants from Ireland, who had been won 
to the faith by the preaching of Mr. 
Wesley. The first Methodist preacher 
in that city was Philip Embury. His 
first discourse was in his own hired 
house to five persons. As the congrega- 
tion increased, a rigging loft was occu- 
pied in Williams Street; and, finally, a 
house of worship was erected. This was 
what has been since called the Old John 
Street Church. It was dedicated in 1768. 
The first annual conference was in 1773, 
when there were ten preachers appoint- 
ed to six places, mostly cities, one of 
which was Xew York, another Philadel- 



phia, another Baltimore. There were 
■x hundred in the membership. In 1784 
there were 33 travelling preachers and 
14.9S6 members. At Christmas, the 
same year, the first annual conference 
was held in Baltimore. In 1792, the first 
general conference was held in the same 

It will be seen that these operations 
were south of New England, but it has 
been a characteristic of Methodism to 
make an aggressive war upon the empire 
of sin, and extend itself in all directions. 
New England was visited by several 
preachers, among them being Rev. Jason 
Lee, a pioneer often on the frontiers, 
travelling on horseback, and addressing, 
with great earnestness, zeal and fervor, 
multitudes that came to hear him. He 1 
was in Boston, where he preached once 
under the great elm on the common. 

No sooner had a foothold been gained 
in Massachusetts than Xew Hampshire 
was considered a field to be cultivated. 
In 1794, the New England Conference ap- 
pointed John Hill to labor in this State. 
"What came of this is not known, as there 
is no record of his work. Possibly he 
did not come into the State. Yet, 
through the efforts of some one, a socie- 
ty was soon after formed in Chesterfield, 
which in 1797 had 92 members, and that 
year Smith Weeks was appointed to that 
place. The church there still exists, and 
is probably the oldest in the State. Two 
years later Elijah Batchelder was ap- 
pointed there. 

' In the meantime other sections were 
visited. Jason Lee, above named, la- 
bored in the lower part of the State to 
some extent. Some opposition was en- 
countered, but in general a good work 
is not hindered by opposition, but. on 
the contrary, is usually advanced. Dur- 
ing the year 1800 a society was consti- 
tuted in Landaff and one in Hawke, now 
Danville; in 1801, one in Hanover; in 
1802, one in Bridgewater and one in 
Kingston; in 1803, one in Grantham; in 
1804 one in Pembroke, one in Loudon and 
one in Tuftonborough; in 1805, one in 
Northfield and one in Centre Harbor; in 
1806, one in Portsmouth; in 1807 one in 
Canaan and one in Rochester; in 1810, 
one in Greenland. 

The several places to which a minister 
was appointed constituted a %i circuit," 
receiving its name from the principal 
town ; and this continued, especially in 
country regions, until within a very few 
years. A circuit embraced two, three or 
more towns. These the minister was to 
visit and hold evening or other meetings. 
When a circuit was very large, two min- 
isters were assigned to it. On a circuit. 
a minister was much in the saddle, or 
travelling on foot in wilderness regions, 
finding his way by spotted trees. 

During the times in which the above 
societies were established, and later, 
there were several distinguished minis- 
ters doing good service in the State, 
among whom should be named the fol- 
lowing : 

Rev. Elijah Hedding, who travelled 
over some of the rough portions of the 
State, preaching the gospel to many, but 
subsequently became a Bishop, and re- 
sided in Poughkeepsie, N. Y., where he 

Rev. Wilbur Fisk, who was a Presid- 
ing Elder in New Hampshire, and after- 
wards became President of Wesley an 
University, in Middletown, Conn., and 
was elected Bishop, but died before serv- 
ing in that office. 

Rev. John Broadhead, a native of 
Pennsylvania, who was for some time a 
Presiding Elder — a man of sterling 
ability and an effective preacher, who 
resided at what is now South New- 
market, was a Senator in the Legislature, 
and for four years Representative in Con- 
gress, and who died April 7, 1S38. 

Rev. Alfred Metcalf resided in Green- 
land as a local preacher, and labored suc- 
cessfully in the surrounding region. 
After a ministry of success for thirty 
years, he died June 4, 1S37, aged fifty- 
'nine years. 

Rev. John Adams was born in New- 
ington. He preached in Massachusetts, 
Maine, and, during the latter part of his 
life, as well as at times previously, in 
New Hampshire. He had some eccen- 
tricities, but many excellencies. He was 
apt, cutting in rebuke, fascinating and 
earnest, had great influence in his ad- 
dresses, and was successful in bringing 



many into the churches. He was famil- 
iarly known as "Reformation John*" 
Me died in j^ewmarket, Sept. 30, 1j>oU, 

aged fifty-nine years. 

Rev. Joseph A. Merrill was for some 
time a Presiding Elder; also Rev. Benj. 
R. Hoyt. Rev. George Pickering did 
good service iD helping to organize early 
societies. Rev. Martin Ruter, afterwards 
a Doctor of Divinity, labored for a time 
in this State. He died in Texas, where 
he went to preach to the destitute. 

An academy was established by this 
denomination in Xewrnarket in 1S13. 
This was near Xewfields Village, in what 
is now South Xewrnarket. Its location 
was too far from the village for conven- 
ience, but it flourished for several years. 
In 1824 the funds were transferred to the 
institution in Wilbrahain, Mass. Still 
the academy continued its operations for 

some years later, but in 1845 the State 
Conference opened ° seminary ? r §an- 

bornton JBridge. After the buildings 
were burned, new ones were erected very 
near, in what is now Tilton. 

Camp Meetings were not common till 
within the recollection of some now liv- 
ing. The first, a record of which is now 
at hand, was held in Sandwich in 1820, 
The first in Rockingham County was iu 
Sandown. in 1S23. Sprituous liquors 
were sold near by, which caused trouble. 
The following year another was held in 
that town. The celebrated Rev. John 
X. Maffit was present. The encamp- 
ment was then a small affair, compared 
with those of more modern times. There 
were but about twenty tents in a circle, 
in which eight or ten hundred persons 
might be seated on rough seats. 



[The writer is a young lady of Concord, 

In one of the sunniest ppots of i% Sun- 
ny Spain " stands the quaint old city of 
Malaga, known to us in childhood by its 
delicious raisins, and, to our more ad- 
vanced age. by its interesting history 
and the conspicuous part it has borne in 
the political struggles of the nation. 

As we enter the harbor we are enchant- 
ed with the beautiful scene before us. 
The sea, calm and lovel}' in its glassy 
stillness, the mountains, rising on and on 
until their dim outlines are hardly pre- 
ceptiblc in the distance, and the city with 
its domes and spires glistening in the 
rays of a tropical sun, form pictures of 
surpassing loveliness. As we approach, 
we obtain a fine view of the cathedral, 
the custom house, and the old Castle 
which has watched over its protegee for 

Generation after generation has passed 
away, but this ancient fortress has been 

now visiting in Spain.— Ed. Monthly.] 

true to its trust, struggling nobly for the 
protection of its subjects, a bulwark of 
strength, and wi a very present help in 
time of need.'' We drop anchor, and 
immediately our steamer is surrounded 
by small boats ready to carry us and our 
luggage to the shore. A medley of un- 
intelligible sounds, accompanied by the 
high tones and frantic gesticulations of 
the boatmen, bewilders our unaccus- 
tomed ears, and we rejoice heartily 
when everything is satisfactorily ar- 
ranged and we are on our way. Arriv- 
ing on shore we proceed to find the Cus- 
tom House officer, not without some anx- 
iety, having heard various rumors of un- 
reasonable duties extorted from foreign- 
ers; we. however, are more fortunate, 
and after a slight examination of our 
boxes, are allowed to depart in peace 
with the customary i; Vaga Usted con 
Dios." Kind friends welcome us with 



loving words and our " Chateaux en 
ne" are uriore than realized in the 
happy hours which each day brings. 

Who could be. otherwise than happy 
in a climate of almost perpetual sun- 
shine? To an inhabitant of northern 
climes it would appear incredible that 
weeks and even mouths pass without one 
cloud}* day to obscure the brightness, 
and this without the penalty of a rainy 
season, which is not known in Malaga. 
In the months of November and Decem- 
ber more rain falls than-at any other por- 
tion of the year, but it is so interspersed 
with sunshine that there is little oppor- 
tunity for dullness ; even when the rain 
is falling the sun seems to be forcing its 
way through the clouds to remind us of 
its presence. The winter is charming 
beyond description; such a sky is not to 
be found even in Italy, and the air is uni- 
formly mild and balmy We take our 
daily walks and drives as regularly as 
the Cathedral clock strikes the hours, 
planning excursions for days in advance 
without a fear of adverse weather. In- 
valids, especially those suffering from 
pulmonary complaints, are almost in- 
variably benefitted by this climate. An 
equable temperature and strong sunlight 
are powerful remedial agents both for 
body and mind. In the year 1S61 a phe- 
nomenon occurred in the form of a slight 
fall of snow which created quite a sen- 
sation among the Malagnenos. It dis- 
appeared as suddenly as it came and has 
never made a second visitation. The 
summer months are hot, but the heat is 
less enervating than in a climate where 
the temperature is constantly changing, 
and much less dangerous. There are no 
epidemics and we have never heard a 
case of sunstroke reported. 

Malaga is very irregular in appear- 
ance; the ancient portion is quite a laby- 
rinth of narrow streets laid out before 
the advent of carriages; those a little 
more modern are sufficiently wide to ad- 
mit one carriage, while others made with- 
in the last half-century are broad and 
well paved. The favorite promenade is 
the '• Alameda," so called from alamos, 
(elm), it being bordered on either side 
by those trees. It is adorned by occa- 

sional statues and fountains placed at 
each end. The largest of these was 
erected last year in honor of King Al- 
fonso's visit to this city, its silvery 
spray rising to a great height, and re- 
flecting the golden beams of the setting 
sun, producing a most brilliant effect. 
The other, less pretentious in size, is en- 
titled to some consideration on account 
of having shared in the celebration of 
the marriage of ex-Queen Isabella, when 
it sent forth jets of red wine, to the ad- 
miration of all beholders. 

On Sundays and days of fiesta, the Al- 
ameda presents an animated appearance, 
being tilled with ladies and gentlemen 
promenading, or sitting in chairs arranged 
along the sides, which one may occupy 
a whole afternoon for the insignificant 
sum of half a real (two and a half cents) , 
with the additional advantage of listen- 
ing to gay music discoursed by a band 
of musicians furnished by the govern- 
ment. Here friends sit and chat over 
the current topics of the day; maidens 
and lovers cast furtive glauces of un- 
swerving fidelity, and little children, 
happiest of all, frisk about like young 
lambs, regardless of clean frocks and 
scolding nurses. 

Running at right angles with the large 
Alameda is a smaller one, bearing the 
somewhat gloomy name of "Alameda 
de los Tristes," (of the sad). The name 
is an inappropriate one, as it is the gay- 
est, most cheerful street in the city. 
The sun sheds upon it its life-giving rays 
iC from early morn till dewey eve," while 
the merry birds till the air with their 
joyous songs. Acacia trees afford a 
geateful shade for those who wish to 
pass the hours in " dolce far niertfe," a 
pastime much sought and enjoyed by in- 
habitants of southern climes. As the 
Alameda de los Tristes is the gayest 
street, so the Calle Peligro (Dangerous 
Street), is the safest ; Calle Ancha (Broad 
Street), the narrowest; Calle Sucia (Dir- 
ty Street), the cleanest; and Calle dil 
Viento (Wind Street), the least airy. 
The Plaza de la Constitucion derives its 
name from having been the site of the 
City Hall at the time the Constitutional 
Law was first proclaimed, in the year 



1812. It was an event of the greatest 
importance to the people, being a transi- 
tion from absolute despotism to a Con- 
stitutional Monarchy. Hitherto they 
had been subject to the mandates of a 
capricious king, without a knowledge of 
their rights or power to assert them ; 
but the new law extended its protecting 
hand and gave them a feeling of compar- 
ative security. 

The Plaza de Riego a de la Merced 
(Mercy), as it is more commonly called, 
bears the name of Gen. Riego, a Liber- 
alist who delivered an address in this 
square. He was afterwards executed in 
Madrid on charge of conspiring against 
the government. In the centre of the 
Plaza stands a monumeut on which are 
inscribed the names of forty-nine inno- 
cent men, executed here on the 11th of 
December, 1S31. The principal one, a 
Spaniard by the name of Torrijos, who 
was known as a Liberaiist. during a stay 
at Gibraltar, received a letter from the 
Governor of Malaga, informing him that 
great excitement prevailed among the 
citizens who were anxious for a change 
of government, and desired his immedi- 

ate presence. Accordingly he embarked 
from Gibraltar in. a small vessel contain- 
ing forty-nine persons, who immeaiateiy 
upon their landing upon the coast west 
of Malaga, were seized and put to death 
without any opportunity of defendiug 
themselves. Upon two sides of the 
monument are the following couplets: 

*•' A vista de este ejemplo cindadanos 
Antes morir que conseutir tiranos.'- 

t ;, El martir que transmite su memoria 
No muere, sube al templo de la Gloria." 

A blacker crime than this can scarcely 
be found recorded in the annals of Span- 
ish history. Had it transpired in the less 
enlightened period of the middle ages, 
it would be regarded as the result of ig- 
norance and barbarism, but the deliber- 
ate performance of a treacherous act in 
the very height of civilization is a stain 
upon the record of the nation which can 
never be effaced. 

* ki Inview of this example, citizens, 
sooner die than consent to tyrants." 

t kt The martyr who transmits his mem- 
ory never dies, but ascends to the temple 



Lone mount, uplifting high thy storm-scarred crest, 

Oft veiled in clouds, amidst the circling hills, 
Thy craggy sides and slopes in verdure dressed, 

The source of limpid springs and fruitful rills ; 
While many dwellers in the vale below, 

Who loved thee once have passed from earth away, 
And we who love thee, too, like them shall go,— 

From age to age, dost thou, unmoved, stay, 
And like the prophet who of old did cry, 

44 Repent, repent, the Kingdom is at hand!" 
So wouldst thou lift our worldly minds on high, 

To things eternal, to a Better Land. 
Thy maker's glory thou dost well foretell; 

We greet thee, Hail ! but soon must say Farewell ! 




On the 9th of February. 1704. a sec- 
ond great calamity and destruction by 
the Indians fell on Deerfield, Mass.. the 
storj* of which has become familiar 
through the narrative of Rev. John Wil- 
liams, minister of the town, who, with 
his wife and children, was carried captive 
to Canada. In this attack thirty-eight 
perished, and 100 were taken prisoners. 
Of this latter number nineteen were mur- 
dered and three starved before reaching 
Canada. Among the survivors was 
Thomas Baker, afterwards the celebrat- 
ed Indian tighter. 

He was born in Northampton, Mass.. 
May 14th, 1682, a sou of Timothy and 
Sarah (Atherton) Baker. Whether he 
was residing at Deerfield, or whether he 
was captured previously, in the raid of 
the Indians on surrounding towns, does 
not appear. He was then twenty-two 
years of age. How long he remained a 
captive in Canada is unknown, at least to 
the writer. What were his experiences, 
or manner of deliverance, how he was 
treated, or how employed, there is noth- 
ing to show. Two things, however, it 
seems safe to predicate of his captivity : 
That he acquired that knowledge of In- 
dian modes and methods which contrib- 
uted to his subsequent successes as an 
Indian scout, and that he made in Cana- 
da the acquaintance of a young woman 
who afterwards became as famous as he, 
and who, by becoming his wife, doubt- 
less induced him to forsake his own and 
become a citizen of her native State. 

* Since writing this article, my atten- 
tion has been called to certain facts in 
relation to the subjects of it, communi- 
cated to the N. E. Hist, and Genealog. 
Ii p n. y in 1851, by Hon. John Went worth 
of Chicago, and afterwards embodied in 
the Wentworth Genealogy^ privately print- 
ed, in 2 vols., 1S70, and soon to be pub- 
lished in an enlarged form, in 3 vols., by 
the same gentleman. 

This lady was Madame Christine Le 
Beau, a daughter of Richard Otis of Do- 
ver, carried to Canada when an infant 
three months old. 

A correspondent, of Farmer and Moore's 
Collections, Vol. III., p. 100. says that 
ki about the year 1720. Capt. Thomas Ba- 
ker of Northampton, in the County of 
Hampshire, in Massachusetts, set out 
with a scouting party of thirty-four men, 
passed up the Connecticut river, and 
crossed the height of land to Pemige- 
wasset river. He here discovered a par- 
ty of Indians, whose sachem was called 
Walternummus, whom he attacked and 

That this date should probably be 1712, 
instead of 1720, is shown by Dr. Bouton 
in N. H. Provincial Papers. II., 635, 
where it is found in a transcript from the 
Legislative Journal of Massachusetts, in 
May of the former year, that £10 was 
voted to " Thomas Baker, commander of 
a company of marching forces in the late 
expedition against the Enemy at Coos, 
and from thence to the west branch of 
the Merrimack river, and so to Dunsta- 
ble, iu behalf of himself and Company 
for one enemy Indian besides that which 
they scalped, which seems so very prob- 
able to be slain." On the 11th of June 
following, the same assembly voted £20 
'•additional allowance " for still others 
of the enemy killed, on their own (i. e. 
the enemy's) showing. To both Gov. 
Dudley consented. 

It was in this expedition that Capt. 
Baker came upon and surprised a camp 
of eight Indians at the confluence of a 
small stream with thePemigewasset, be- 
tween Plymouth and Campton. which 
has since, in remembrance of the exploit, 
borne the name of Baker's river. Pen- 
hallow says the number of the enemy 
was eight, and that all were slain with- 
out the loss of a man. f Coll. N. H. Hist. 


Sop., I.. SO]. This must; have been early 
in M my. 17 l 2. Tlrewriterhi Farmer md 
Moore, above quoted, says that Walter- 
numuins. the chief, and Capt. Baker lev- 
elled and discharged their pieces at each 
other at the same instant: that the ball 
from the Indian's gun grazed Capt. Ba- 
ker's left eyebrow, doing no injury, while 
Baker shot the sachem through the 
breast, who leaped. high in the air and 
fell instantly dead. They found a wig- 
wam filled with beaver, of which tbey 
took as much as they could carry, and 
burned the rest. According to Penhal- 
low, there were in Capt. Baker's compa- 
ny fifty men, instead of thirty-four. If 
so, the success of the exploit was not sur- 

At that, time Capt. Baker lived in bis 
native town of Northampton. In 1715. 
he married Madame Le Beau, and was 
still residing there. But in 1719 he rep- 
resented Brookfield in the Massachusetts 
Legislature ; and about 1721 he removed to 
Dover, which continued to be his home 
thenceforth until his death, probably in 
1753. "What the records of that town 
would disclose concerning his subse- 
quent career, the writer would be glad to 
know. Of his history little enough is on 
record. Tradition has accorded him the 
character of a braveand successful scout. 
It is probable that this was not his first 
expedition, as an inexperienced man 
would not be likely to command such an 
one, and equally probable it was not his 

His sword, with the initials. U T. B..'' 
inlaid in the blade with gold, with the 
device of an eagle in a circle, and giving 
evidence of having seen hard service, is 
in the museum of the Xew Hampshire 
Antiquarian Society. We come now to 
the history of 
Madame Christine, Captain Baker's 


On the night of the 27th of June, 1639, 
the Indians fell on Dover, and wiped out 
their long-cherished sense of injury with 
a bloody hand. Belknap say? there were 
five garrisoned houses in Dover at that 
time. One of these belonged to Capt. 
Richard Otis, lie was an Englishman 
by birth, and was made an inhabitant of 


Boston, May 28. 1655. but was taxed at 
T)^\or rhe <.:■- j\:..w. F< r thh t \ -three 
years he had been one of the leading men 
of the town. He had been thrice mar- 
ried. His first wife was Rose, daughter 
of Antony Stoughton ; his second. Shua, 
daughter of James Hurd; his third, prob- 
ably a young woman, was Grizell, daugh- 
ter of James and Margaret Warren. She 
had at the time of the attack a daughter, 
born in March previous, who had been 
named Margaret. Richard Otis was 
slain, his house rifled and burned, and 
his wife and child carried captives to 

There Mrs. Otis embraced the Roman 
Catholic religion, being baptized May 9, 
1693, by the name of Mary Madeline 
Warren, and was married on the 15th of 
October following to Philip Robitail,* a 
Frenchman, b} r whom she had several 
children, and died at a great age. The 
infant Margaret was taken in charge by 
the French, baptized by the name of 
Christine, educated in. a Roman Catholic 
nunnery, but declined to take the veil. 
At the age of sixteen she was married to 
one Le Beau, a Frenchman, by whom 
she had certainly two, and possibly 
three, children. 

She entertained a strong desire to visit 
her native land and be among her own 
people. How long she lived with Le 
Beau is not known. But in 1714 she 
was a widow, and, taking advantage of 
an exchange of prisoners, she returned 
to Dover. The Romanists would not al- 
low her to take her children, the eldest 
of which could not have been more than 
eight years old. and a considerable estate 
which she possessed she had to abandon. 

How much her remembrance of Capt. 
Thomas Baker had to do with her desire 
to return to Xew England we shall never 
know. When he was carried to Canada, 

* This name is given as Nobitail, in 
Coll. X. H. Hist. Soc, VIII., 407, but is 
incorrect. I learn from Hon. John 
Wentworth that the name Robitaile is not 
infrequent in Canada; that the Hon. Mr. 
Robitaile was, not long since, a member 
of the Canadian Parliament, and that a 
Dr. Robitaile recently graduated from 
the medical department of Harvard Uni- 


in 1704, she was barely fifteen years old. 
a J unmarried. Whether sue saw him 
before or after her marriage, which oc- 
curred within the first two years after 
his capture, or whether she saw him at 
all in Canada, is equally uncertain. It is 
assumed that she did. because certain it 
is that in the year 1715. being the next 
after her return, she is found at North- 
ampton as Capt. Baker's wife. At that 
time he had led his scouting party into 
••the Cohos country."' had received his 
bounty and established his fame. 

At Northampton Madame Christine re- 
nounced the Romish faith and united 
with the Congregational church, then 
under the pastoral care of Rev. Solomon 
Stoddard, from which time she seems to 
have been called by the English name of 
Christina. It would appear that tidings 
of tills renunciation did not reach Can- 
ada for many years. 

At length, on the 27th ot June. 1727. 
at which time Mrs. Baker had been six 
years a resident of Dover. M. Seguenot, 
who had been her own and her mother's 
confessor at Montreal, prepared and for- 
warded to her a letter of remonstrance 
and entreatj', exhorting her to abjure the 
faith to which she had apostatized and 
return to the church of Rome. The let- 
ter was written in French, and contained 
an elaborate presentment of the claims of 
'* the Mother Church," and of the argu- 
ments commonly used against Protest- 
ant Christianity, chiefly composed of the 
calumnies and assumptions that had been 
used against Luther and Calvin. By this 
letter we learn that her mother. Madame 
Robitail, was then living, and that one 
of her own children, a daughter by Le 
Beau, had recently died. M. Seguenot 
advised her to show his letter to her min- 
isters, thinking, doubtless, that as it con- 
tained profuse references to ancient and 
'nmsual authorities, they would be as lit- 
tle able as herself to answer him. 

At that time the Rev. Jonathan Gush- 
ing was pastor of the church in Dover. 
He was, in 1727, thirty-seven years of 
age, and in the tenth year of a pastorate 
Which lasted fifty-two years, the last 
two of which he had Jeremy Belknap for 
a colleague. He was a graduate of Har- 

vard College, 1712. and a scholarly man 
in the learning of his thrfl . ; tit it is 
doubtful if he was acquainted with the 
French language, and altogether improb- 
ablcthat he possessed the historical vol- 
umes needful to make a conclusive reply 
to M. Seguenot's letter. The letter was 
placed in the hands of some competent 
person who translated it into English. 

The following year William Burnett 
was transferred from the governorship 
of New York and New Jersey to that of 
Massachusetts and New Hampshire. He 
was the eldest son of the celebrated Gil- 
bert Burnett, Bishop of Sarum. the his- 
torian of the Reformation in England 
and of his own time, the trusted minister 
and friend of William III., for whom his 
son was named by the king himself, who 
stood god-father at his baptism. Gover- 
nor Burnett was an accomplished schol- 
ar, possessed a clear head, ready wit and 
a majestic presence. He came to his gov- 
ernment in Boston on the 13th of July, 
172S, but did not enter his Province of 
New Hampshire till, probably. April 19, 
1729.* He died in Boston Sept. 7, fol- 
lowing. From certain causes, Xew 
Hampshire was high in his favor, and 
Massachusetts under his displeasure. 

Gov. Burnett never had any personal 
acquaintance with Mrs. Baker, By some 
means he was made acquainted with the 
character of M. Seguenot's letter, and the 
circumstances to which it related. Al- 
though a churchman, he was by educa- 
tion and disposition of mind favorably 
inclined to the Calvinists. He expressed 
a desire to see the letter, which was ac- 
cordingly laid before him, and he pre- 
pared in French an equally elaborate re- 
ply, refuting the Romish priest's argu- 
ments, and exposing his falsifications of 
history. This was dated Jan. 2, 1729, 
and was addressed to Mrs. Baker, with 
leave to make such use of it as she 
deemed best, but concealing himself as 
the writer, and subscribing himself her 
" unknown but humble servant." This 

*He made his speech to the Council 
and House of Representatives Tuesday, 
Apr. 22. Adams. Annals of Ports., says 
he visited X. H. Sept. 7, 1729; but that 
was the day he died in Boston. 

and the former was 
mto English and both 


letter soon wa 
:- -vain, frau'stetefi 
were published, with a clumsy explana- 
tion by the bookseller, by * ; D. Hench- 
man, at the corner shop over against. the 
Brick Meeting-House in Cornbill: 
MDCCXX1X." This corner shop, by 
the way, was the same building now oc- 
cupied by A. "Williams & Co.. opposite 
the Old South Church, and was built in 
1712. Both were re-printed in the eighth 
volume of the X. II. Historical Society's 
Collections; and the original correspon- 
dence is in the Boston Athenaeum. 

On the 18th of Oct.. 173-1. Mrs. Baker 
petitioned the Governor and Council of 
New Hampshire for leave to keep a 
"house of public entertainment." which 
was granted on the 9th of May the next 
year. In 1737. she petitioned Gov. 
Belcher and the Honorable Council v> to 
grant her a tract of land in this Province 
[X. II.], of such contents as you shall in 
your wisdom and goodness see meet,'' 
setting forth that she was captured in 
her infancy, lived many years among the 
French in Canada, and that she had pur- 
chased her libem- " with the loss of all 
her estate, which was not inconsidera- 
ble;" that since her return to Xew Eug- 


land she had met with many misfortunes 
and hun'-.h-L >. ajrvd had Srveial i:'. ''.,' .-"!, 
which she might find burdensome to 
maintain, "especially considering that 
she was not in such comfortable circum- 
stances as she had formerly lived in.' 1 
The petition was, March 1G, 1737, -or- 
dered to lie for consideration till next 
session." and does not appear to "n^ve 
been again taken up. 

The '• several children " above referred 
to were six. One of these was Col. Otis 
Baker of Dover, who died in 1801. He 
represented Dover in the State Legisla- 
ture in 1770. '72, '73 and '75. and under 
the revolutionary government: was 
Judge of the Court of Common Pleas.., 
1773-1755. State Senator two years, mem- 
ber of the Committee of Safety. 177c. "77, 
and Colonel of the 2d Xew Hampshire 

Lydia. daughter of Col. Otis Baker, 
married Col. Amos Cogswell of Dover, 
whose daughter, also Lydia, married 
Paul "Wentworth, Esq., of Sandwich, 
and was the mother of Hon. Johx Went- 
worth of Chicago. 

Mrs. Christina Baker died in Dover, 
Feb. 23. 1773, having nearly completed 
her 84th vear. 



"The sky is clear, the air is cool, 

The birds are full of glee. 
The dew has dried from off the grass, 

The hills are fair to see ; 
Come, leave your sewing. Martha Gray, 

And roam the fields with me ! " 

" Ah, Mary. I would gladly go, 

But see this work to do ! 
These yards and yards to baste and stitch, 

And all this plaiting, too, 
Before the dress I need so much 

Will bear the critic's view.'- 


"But, Martha, while you're delving here 

These rare June days speed by, 
Bach days! wheu God seeuxs reaching down, 

And heaven's own glories nigh! 
Come, live this golden day with me 

And let the trimmings lie I " 

"Nay, Mary, that will never do; 

I am not brave to dare 
The whole gay world in quaker dress 

Like that you choose to wear; 
So I must work away at home 

Though earth and skies are fair. 

" Martha, you say that you believe 

When these frail forms decay 
The thinking mind lives on and on 

In realms ot endless day, 
And all the good it gathers up 

It bears along its way. 

"And yet, to deck this fading form 

You spend your time and care, 
And let the living spirit starve, 

Shut off from all that's rare; 
Bending its Godlike powers down 

To less than empty air." 

"I know, friend Mary, what you say 

Is very good and true, 
And yet, the folks that live your way 

You'll find arc strangely few, 
While thousands, wiser far than I, 

Live on just as I do. 

"And so I join the crowd, although 

I like your way the best; 
But 'tis so hard to face the world — 

Its ridicule and jest — 
To know they write you down as * odd,' 

1 Strong-minded,' 'queerly-dressed." 

So Martha turned to her machine, 

And straightened cloth and thread. 
Then off, through weary lengths of seam 

The shining needle sped ; 
While Mary, out beneath the trees, 

Gleaned happy thoughts instead. 






One of the conditions upon which the 
original proprietors of the town of Hop- 
kinton received their grant was an agree- 
ment k, to build and furnish a convenient 
meeting house and settle a learned aud 
orthodox minister." In the first plan of 
the division of lflts. the land was parcel- 
ed out upon opposite sides of four roads, 
diverging from a common centre towards 
the four cardinal points of the compass, 
By this arrangement. %i the minister's" 
lot was the first " on the north range on 
the west side." The fifth lot in regular 
order on the same range and side was al- 
so a u ministerial lott." 

The first settlers in Hopkinton came 
here probably as soon as 1730. At a pub- 
lic meeting held in the house of Timothy 
Knowlton, on the 24th of May. the same 
year, it was voted to build and furnish a 
meeting house by the last of the follow- 
ing October, said meeting house to be 
•'thirty-five ft. in length, twenty-five ft. 
in breadth, and eight ft. between joints. 
with a basil roof." This house was not 
built. Troubles incident to frontier life 
came on, and twenty-seven years passed 
away before a church was erected. In 
the mean while the people worshipped 
in Putney's Fort, which stood near the 
angle of the roads diverging northwardly 
and easterly on the top of Putney's Hill, 
on land now occupied by Mrs. L. A. 
Stanwood, and where the first settled 
minister in town was ordained. 

The first church was built in the year 
17GG. It was fifty feet long, thirty-eight 
broad, and the posts were twenty-two 
feet. Eight years more passed away be- 
fore a pulpit and pews were added. Five 
hundred pounds, ,k old tenor," were orig- 
inally appropriated for the erection of 
this house. A depreciated state of the 
currency made this appropriation equiv- 

alent to something over $1000. On the 
5th of February. 17S9, the church was 
burned. A local difference of feeling en- 
gendered a dispute which terminated in 
a crime. The first centre of the town 
was on Putney's Hill. Increase of pop- 
ulation and incident circumstances gave 
a prominence and preference to the spot 
where the village now is. The first 
church was built on the site of the pres- 
ent Congregational house of worship. 
Some, of course, were dissatisfied. A 
certain young man testified to his dissent 
by burning the building. He was pun- 
ished for a time by confinement in jail, 
and at labor. At a town meeting, May 8. 
1789, it was voted to forgive him, his fa- 
ther binding him to labor for -the town 
till satisfaction was rendered. The soci- 
ety of worshippers, thrown out of doors 
by the destruction of their meeting-house, 
accepted for a time the offer of Benjamin 
Wiggin, taverner. to open his barn for 
their accommodation. The house of 
Benjamin Wiggin is still standing, next 
building westerly to the Episcopal churchi 
It was in front of Benjamin Wiggin's, 
under the trees now standing, that the 
Rev. Jacob Cram, third minister in the 
town, was ordained, February 25, 17S9. 

In less than four months from the burn- 
ing of the first house, a second one was 
erected. The old controversy was reviv- 
ed. It had only partially culminated on 
the day of the fire. A commitiee, con- 
sisting of Nathan Sargent. Samuel Far- 
rington. John Jewett, John Moore. Isaac 
Chandler, James Buswell, Benjamin B. 
Darling, Enoch Eastman, and Joshua 
Morse, had reported on February 2, 17S9, 
as follows ; 

wt After we have considered the matter 
respecting the meeting-house. We have 
examined the rates and we find the east 
end of the town pays about S pounds in 
fifty in the minister tax more than the 



west end. and is eight parts in number 
more. Also the travel is thirty-six miles 
/.. tli r to the eommon lot on the Hill, so 
culled, than where it now stands, accord- 
ing to our computation. As those two 
places are the only ones picked upon by 
the committee, therefore we think the 
meeting-house ought not to be moved." 

Three days after, the meeting-house 
having been destroyed that morning, it 
was decided at a meeting held at thejpub- 
lic house of Mr. Babson. and adjourned 
to his % * barn-yard." to refer the settle- 
ment of the local dispute to the select- 
men of Gilmanton, Linesborough and 
Washington. By this time several sites 
were proposed for the permanent loca- 
tion of a meeting-house. The disinter- 
ested committee of gentlemen from 
abroad reported verbatim ei literatim as 
follows : 

" To the Town of Hopkinton. Gentlemen : 

k * We, your Committee appointed to fix 
upon a Suitible Plac in your Town for 
you to build a meeting hous upon, do Re- 
port that we have Taken a View of the 
Principle part of your Town, and the 
.Situation of Each Part of the Same, and 
have found it to be attended with diffi- 
culty Rightly to Settle the matter in such 
a way that Each part of the Town 
Should have theare Equality of Privil- 
eges. The Senter of a Town in a general 
way is to be attended to in these Cases, 
but we are informed the Senter of the 
Land in your Town Cannot be Regarded 
for the above purpose; thearefore we 
have taken a View of the other Spots of 
ground Nominated by the Several Parts 
of the Town ; (viz.) the Connor near Mr. 
Burbank\s, the Hill, the Spot by the 
School Hous, and the old meeting Hous 
Spot, and Considered them thus: it ap- 
pears to us that the Spot by Mr. Bur- 
bank's will accomedaie the Southwest 
Part of the Town only: as to the Hill, it 
appears to us that it will accomedate the 
Northwesterly part of the Town only; 
as to the Place by the School Hous. the 
distance from rtie old Spot is so small it 
is not worth attending to. Thearefore, 
we, the Subscribers, are uuanimus of the 
oppinion that near the Spot wheare the 
old meeting Hous Stood will be the most 
Convenient Place for you to build a Meet- 
ing Hous upon. 
" Hopkiuton, February 20, 1789. 


EZEK1EL HOIT. ]■ Committee." 


The above report being accepted, the 
new meeting-house was erected prompt- 
ly. It was C2x4G feet, and had a tower 

about twelve feet square at each end. It 
had seven entrances in all — two in each 
tov* m ;'-i!-J th; ■'•:• in fronr.. It haw the old?: 
fashioned high pulpit, sounding-board, 
gallery, and square pews. A few of the 
front pews, according to custom, were of 
better finish. With the addition of a 
belfry and bell in 1S11, the structure re- 
mained substantially intact till 1839. 
when it was remodeled into the form of 
the present church, which was dedicated 
on December 26th of the same year. A 
town clock was placed in the tower of 
the remodeled church. 

The first church music was congreg a- 
tional. The hymns were often "deac oil- 
ed" by some person whose superior mu- 
sical attainments were popularly recog- 
nized. In time people began to desire 
something better. Musical societies, in 
different parts of Xew England were 
having their influence. The old ••Cen- 
tral" society, organized at Concord, 
contained members from Hopkinton. 
At a town meeting September 8, 1783, 
it was voted that Thomas Barley, 
Daniel Tenny. Jacob Spoftord, Jonathan 
Quimby, Jr., Nathaniel Clement, and 
Isaac Bayley *• should sit in the singing 
pew. to lead in singing and to Cake in 
such singers as they thought proper." 1 
With a proper social stimulus, progress 
in music advanced to a marked degree. 
The church choir sometimes included as 
many as fifty voices. Various instru- 
ments were used as accompaniments. In 
1800, there were four bass viols, to say 
nothing of violins, clarinets, and other 
instruments, in the choir. There were 
notable singers, players and composers 
in the olden time. Among them were 
Isaiah Webber, Jeremiah Story, and 
Isaac Long. Orchestral music continued 
to be employed in the Congregational 
church till about 1850, when a seraphiue 
was purchased and put in the gallery. 
In 1872, the seraphiue was superseded 
by an elegant organ at a cost of S1SQ0. 

A Sunday-school was opened at Hopkin- 
ton in 1817, in the school house at Far- 
rington's Corner. About 1821, another 
school was opened on Beech Hill. In 
1822. a Sunday School was opened in the 
church. In 1848, a constitution was 



adopted and regular officers chosen. 
Stephen Sargent was the first superin- 
tendent under the new regulation. 

In 1757, there were but ten members of 
the^church. Now the church, society, 
and Sunday School are large and flour- 
ishing. The list of pastors ministering 
to this church since its organization is 
as follows : — James Scales, ordained No- 
vember 23, 1757; dismissed July 4, 1770. 
Elijah Fletcher, Westford, Mass., ordain- 
ed January 27, 1773; died April 8. 17SG. 
Jacob Cram, Hampton Falls, ordained 
February 25, 17S9: dismissed January 6, 
1792. Eathan Smith. South Hadley, 
Mass., installed March 11, 1800; dismiss- 
ed December 1G. 1814. Roger C. Hatch, 
Middletown. Conn., ordained October 21, 
1818; dismissed June 26, 1832. Moses 
Kimball, a native of this town, installed 
May 7, 1834; dismissed July 15. 1S46. 
Edwin Jennison, Walpole, installed June 
6, 1847; dismissed September 5, 1849. 
Christopher M. Cordly. Oxford, Eng., 
ordained September 5, 1S49 ; dismissed 
February 4, 1852. Marshall B. Angier, 
Southborough. Mass., ordained June S. 
1853; dismissed March 22. 1SG0. Edwin 
W. Cook, Townsend, Mass., installed 
March 6. 1861 ; dismissed December 13, 
1864. William H. Cutler, Lowell. Mass., 
ordained December 20, 18G5; dismissed 
May 8, 1867. J. K. Young, D.D.. of La- 
conia. supplied from June, 1867, till Oc- 
tober, 1874. Clarendon A. Stone. South- 
borough, Mass., installed December 29, 

The west part of the town was the lo- 
cation of a Congregational meeting house 
as early as 1803. This house was of the 
usual spacious, uncouth style of archi- 
tecture prevailing at the time, and stood 
at Campbell's Corner. There does not 
appear to have been any separate organ- 
ization of the church connected with it. 
It was taken down to be rebuilt into the 
present Calvin ist Baptist church. 

Jn 1834, Dea. Amos Bailey, of West 
Hopkinton, died, willing a large portion 
of his property to the Congregational 
church. One-half of this bequest was to 
be paid to any society maintaining preach- 
ing in the west part of the town. In the 
hope of securing the aid, a society was 

organized with its head-quarters at Con- 
toocook. The Union meeting-house was 
uset^Ansl Bev* DavUI Kimball, of Con- 
cord, employed to preach. However, it 
could not be made to appear upon trial 
that Contoocook was in that part of the 
town implied in the will of Deacon Bai- 
le}% and the bequest was lost. The Sec- 
ond Congregational* Society, as it was 
called, kept up a nominal existence till 
the year 1851. 

The old-fashioned, two-storied farm- 
house standing near the old grave-yard 
on Putney's Hill, and occupied by the 
descendants of Moses Eowell, is said to 
have been the first parsonage in the town, 
the residence of the Rev. James Scales, 
the first minister. The land publicly 
held for the benefit of religion was at 
length disposed of by lease. On March 8, 
1796, the town voted to lease, it i% as long 
as wood shall grow and water run." The 
income was divided among the different 


Diversity of religious belief is natural 
among men. Although Hopkinton was 
settled by people nominally orthodox in 
faith, actual dissenters from the popular 
belief soon began to assert themselves. 
The first gathering of an organized Bap- 
tist church was effected tnrough the mis- 
sionary labors of Dr. Hezekiah Smith. 
At first this was a branch of the Baptist 
church in Haverhill, Mass., the subordi- 
nate organization occurring in 1769. On 
May 8, 1771. the church at Hopkinton 
became independent. In its earlier days, 
the influence of this church was widely 
extended. Branch churches were organ- 
ized in Bow, Goffstown. and London- 
derry. The organization included peo- 
ple of Bedford. Merrimack, Derrylield 
(now Manchester), and Nottingham 
West (now Hudson). Among the early 
laborers in the local Baptist field were 
Elders John Peake, Job Seamans. Thom- 
as Paul, and John Hazen. Dr. Shepherd 
was also an advocate of Baptist doc- 

The first years of this church were at- 
tended with trials. The war of the Rev- 
olution depressed it, but it rallied again 
in 1789. It received a new impulse from 


a great revival in 1793. The walls of a 
new church were enclosed in 1703. but 
...-•■ '\ aa a&& <con\[>\>_-z< a bill at least 
tvent y years after. This house was very 
much like most of the country meeting- 
houses built at the time, being huge, 
square, high, and galleried. It stood on 
s spot of ground northerly opposite the 
bouse of Mr. Jonathan French, near the 
convergence of a number of roads, near 
the foot of the southern slope of Putney's 
Hill. The Baptist church suffered at 
length from internal doctrinal dissen- 
sions. At rlrst, the members of this 
church were committed to no special 
Christian doctrine except such as are 
held in general by all Baptists. In time, 
they began to discuss the subtler themes 
clustering around Calvinism and Armin- 
itnism. A division of sentiments arose. 
The controversy reached its height about 
the year 1S22. when the Rev. Michael 
Carlton, a pronounced Calvinist. became 
pastor of the church. In 1S23. the seism 
between the Calyinists and Arminians re- 
sulted in a separation. Deacon Jonathan 
Fowler led off a large party which form- 
ed the nucleus of the present Free Bap- 
tist church. Since then, the two Baptist 
bodies have held on in their unmolested 
ways. In 1831, the Calvinists built a 
new church, of modern country style, in 
the westerly part of Hopkinton village, 
about a mile east of their old place 
oj worship. Their new church was 
framed out of the timbers of the old 
West Congregational meeting-house. 
The old Baptist meeting-house was taken 
in bulk or in parts to Concord, where it 
formed # a part of a new structure. The 
Baptist church in Hopkinton village was 
neatly repaired in 1854. A combined 
parsonage and vestry was erected nearly 
opposite the church in 1SG9. 

The Calvinist Baptist church, in com- 
mon with others, has felt the depressing 
effects of the later changes in the tid« of 
population, though more and less than 
some. Its congregation has diminished. 
It has had important donations. The 
widow of the late Samuel Smith, about 
18U8.1eft a generous benefit to this church. 
Its cabinet organ was given in 1S71 by 
Geo. H. Crowell, of Brattleboro, Vt. Its 

bell was a present by Mrs. Sarah Jones, 
of Hopkinton, in 1S7G. The list of pas- 
tors of :'"'■- >::>rch >s as iVJoivs : — Eider 
Elisha Andrews. settled in 1795 ; preached 
half the time for three years. For seven- 
teen years after the church was supplied 
mostly by its deacons. Elder Abner 
Jones settled in 1315; resigned in 1821. 
Michael Carlton, ordained June 27, 1822; 
resigned September 14. 1S32. Rev. A. J. 
Foss. installed March 27. 1S33; remained 
3 years. L. B. Cole, M. D., ordained and 
installed April IS. 1S37; remained two 
years. Rev. Samuel Cooke, May 19, 
1S39; remained six years. King S. Hall, 
no date of ordination; resigned Septem- 
ber 2S. 1851. Rev. Samuel J. Carr, 
March 14, 1S52; remained four years. 
Rev. J. E. Brown. April 2, 1S57 ; resigned 
September 7, 1SG2. C. W. Burnham, or- 
dained October 14, 1S83 ; last Sunday iu 
August. 1S71. Rev. Abraham Snyder. 
January 1, 1S72; resigned Dec. 27. 
1S74. WilliamS. Tucker, Sept. 28. 1S75. 


In 1S00. Hopkinton had advanced to 
a position of wealth and influence. So- 
cial beliefs and forms were multiplying 
in proportion. In the village were 
many families of distinction. A large 
number of these were Episcopalians by 
faith or practice. There was also a quo- 
ta of Episcopalians among the farming 
population. About this time, or later, 
also. a number of prominent families came 
over to the Episcopalians from the Cal- 
vinists. In 1803, an Episcopalian society, 
called Christ's Church, was organized, 
worshipping in the Court House. The 
Rev. Samuel Meade was the superinten- 
dent of this movement. Rev. William 
Montague, Rev. Robert Fowle, Rt. Rev. 
Alexander Griswold, and many others, 
officiated for Christ's Church for longer 
or shorter periods. In 1S2G, Rev. Moses 
B. Chase became the rector. During his 
leadership important changes took 
place. A new parish was formed. In 
1827 it was incorporated under the name 
of St. Andrew's Church. The firsc 
wardens were John Harris and William 
Little. The first vestrymen were Mat- 
thew narvey, Horace Chase, Nathaniel 
Curtis and J. M. Stanley. A new stone 



church was begun the same year. It 
was dedicated June 25, 1828. Rev. Mr. 
Chase e<>Rfci»u<ec] seei©*" till !•>>!, 7 : ;e 
church flourished during his ministry. 
In later years it declined with the busi- 
ness prosperity of the town. However, 
the church has been open most of the 
time. Important improvements have 
been made upon the interior of St. An- 
drew's church. During the ministry of 
Rev. Mr. Schouler the chancel was re- 
constructed. It was further improved, 
and the church frescoed and painted in 

The first organ in town was set up in 
St. Andrew's church about 1846. It was 
purchased of the Rt. Rev. Carlton 
Chase; it had been his parlor oigan. 
The instrument is still in its accustomed 
place in the unused gallery of the church. 
It did musical service for many years. 
In 1874 a new and handsome organ was 
set up. at the left of the chancel. at a cost 
of about §2000. This church is much 
indebted to the energy and liberality of 
many of its friends at home and abroad. 
Its elegant font was obtained through 
the exertions of the late Elizabeth T. 
Lerued* about 1SG6. The present organ 
-was secured by the energy of Miss C. C. 
P. Lerned. The altar and lecturn cloths, 
together with the chandeliers and lamps, 
were' the gift of Mrs. G. T. Roberts, of 
Philadelphia, Pa., about two years ago. 

Since 1S41 there have been clergymen 
of St. Andrew's :— Rev. Calvin Wolcott, 
one year from the second Sunday in 
May, 1342; Rev. Silas Blaisdell, 1845 to 
1847; Rev. Henry Low; Rev. Edward 
F. Putnam; Rev. X. F. Ludlum; Rev. 
Francis Chase one year to Xovem- 
ber 3, 1802; Rev. William Schouler, 
July 1. 1805 to Jan. 20, 1808. Since 
Feb. 2, 1S03, the church has been sup- 
plied by the Rev. H. A. Coit. D. D., of 
St. Paul's School, Concord. During the 
time Rev. Hall Harrison has been the al- 
most, or quite, constant rector. 


We have already mentioned the defec- 
tion in the original Baptist church which 
resulted in the separation of a party, led 
by Dea. Jonathan Fowler, who organized 
the Free Will Baptist church. This or- 

ganization took definite form on the 17th 
of September of the year of separation, 
'or 1823. Th«> loea; i m <>f this, church at 
Contoocook is suggestive in view of the 
valuable social results wrought by it. 
In the earlier times Contoocook had an 
unenviable reputation. The highest so- 
cial laws were largely set at defiance. 
A minister on his way to preach at Con- 
toocook was informed he was going to a 
bad place. Xow all is changed. The 
influence of the Free Will Baptist church 
has been a prominent agent in promoting 
an improved state of society. 

The original organization was known 
as the Union Baptist church. It con- 
sisted of twelve members. On the 28th 
of September, 1S26, Jonathan Fowler 
and Thomas White were chosen deacons. 
The society was incorporated on the 30th 
of June. 1S27. A meeting-house was 
constructed the same year; it was raised 
April 11. finished October 27 and dedi- 
cated October 29. Various improve- 
ments have from time to time been made 
on this house since its erection. In 1872 
a bell was added. 

Rev. David Harriman was pastor of 
this church from its foundation till May 
10. 1S23. Rev. Arthur Caverno succeed- 
ed till February 24, 1833. Rev. David 
Moody followed till February 27, 1337; 
Rev. Hiram Holmes supplied till Novem- 
ber 30. 1S39; Rev. John L. Sinclair con- 
tinued a pastor till Xovember 11, 1839 ? 
Rev. Abner Coombs was installed pastor 
July 10, 1840; dismissed May 15, 1842. 
Rev. D. Sidney Frost became pastor May 
19, 1842 ; dismissed April 17, 1845. Rev. 
Barlow Dyer became pastor May 18, 
1845; dismissed March 4. 1819. Rev. S. 
T. Catli-n became pastor December 20, 
1849; dismissed in 1851. Rev. Francis 
Reed became pastor May 20.1851; dis- 
mised in March, 1S59. Rev. C. H. With- 
am became pastor the first of July, 1859; 
dismissed June 2, 1861. Rev. Thomas 
Keniston and others suppled from June, 
1861, till May, 1803. Rev. Asa Ranlett 
became pastor May 23. 1863; dismissed 
in October. 1805. Rev. John L. Sinclair 
became pastor a second time in January, 
1807; dismissed in March, 1809. Rev. 
George W. Kuapp became pastor iu 


March, 1SG9; dismissed in March, 1873 
John C. Osgood became pastor in June, 
]<-/..*>; dismissed in Mareir, 187& i-ev. 
< . W. Griffin became pastor May 13, 


In the early part of the present cen- 
tury there was a great revival of Uni- 
versalism in New Hampshire. Revs. 
Klhanan Winchester and Hosea Ballou 
preached the doctrine far and wide, gain- 
ing many hearers and making many con- 
verts. The church grew and multiplied 
hi many places. Previously to 1S10 there 
were many persons in Hopkinton who 
entertained some sort of preference for 
the Universalist form of religion. A 
church to be known as the Union meet- 
ing-house was projected as earlj-as 1S35. 
On the 5th of December of that year a 
meeting was held at the house of Clem- 
ent Beck, at " Stumpfield," to take into 
consideration the erection of a church. 
Moses Iloyt, 2d, was chosen moderator. 
James Huse was clerk, and Moses Hoyt, 
Moses Copp and Nathaniel Colby were 
made a building committee. The enter- 
prise was effected by the erection of 
shares, which were sold at $25 each. 
The whole number of shares sold was 
thirty-one. Representatives of different 
faiths in the vicinity took shares. The 
meeting-house was built in 1636. on a lot 
north of the road leading from Hopkin- 
ton village to Henniker, east of the 
house of Mr. Charles Barton, about 
three miles from the village. 

There was never any settled minister 
iu this society. Among those preaching 
here more or less, were Revs. A. A. Mi- 
ner, J. P. Atkinson, X. R. Wright and 
J. F. Witherel. The meeting-house 
was seriously damaged by lire on the 
5th of February, 1S37, and was subse- 
quently repaired. In 1SG5 the house was 
sold to Robert Wilson, and was moved 
to "Clement's Hill," where it was re- 
modeled into a barn belonging to Alfred 
Hastings. The society had dwindled in 
common with many others in districts 
wholly rural. 

A Second Universalist Society was or- 
ganized shortly after the first. The new 
urbanization had its headquarters at 


Contoocook. A church, called a Union 
house, was erected in 1S37. It is now 
useii by the New Churc&j os Swedcnbor- 
gian Society. The. See6nd Universalist 
Society for a time had considerable vig- 
or. Rev. J. F. Witherel was a settled 
minister. A good deal of enterprise was 
shown in the efforts for propagating the 
faith. Mr. Witherel, in company with J. 
Sargent, of Sutton, published the % * Uni- 
versalist Family Visitor,-' a monthly pe- 
riodical. The first number was pub- 
lished in April, 1841. The Visitor had 
twelve pages, was of common tract 
size, and set forth its favorite principles 
with talent and vigor. We have not 
been able to rind any records of the Sec- 
ond Universalist Society, which kept up 
a nominal existence till quite late. 


The New Jerusalem Church, more 
commonly called the New Church, was 
founded through the missionary labors 
of Rev. Abiel Silver, a native of this 
town, who first preached a number of 
discourses in the Union church at Con- 
toocook, in the summer of 1851. Mr. 
Silver was then a resident of Michigan, 
visiting his old home and family scenes. 
The appreciation of these discourses in- 
duced a contribution in money to the 
reverend gentleman, who returned the 
equivalent in theological works of Eman- 
uel Swedenborg, or collateral publica- 
tions of the Xew Church. 

In a year or two after further interest 
in the New Church was awakened in 
Contoocook and vicinity. Mr. Silver 
returned and preached .at length, and 
finally concluded to make the village his 
permanent place of residence. The 
Union church, which had stood for some 
years unoccupied by any regular society, 
became a place of weekly worship under 
Mr. Silver's ministrations. The interest 
grew till the meeting-house was filled to 
its utmost capacity. Hearers were found 
present from various parts of Hopkinton 
and surrounding towns. In 1S57 a per- 
manent organization was effected. On 
the 24th of May of that year the Rev. 
Thomas Worcester, of Boston, instituted 
the societ} 7 . The following are the 
names of the original members of the 



church : — Abiel Silver, Edna X. Silver. 
Nathaniel L. Xoyes, Sarah A. Xoyes, 
Mary XHiol?, I;.ioda Cutler; >nHlva',)' 
Hutchinson, Edna C. Silver, Chyles 
Gould, Erastus E. Currier. Lucv H. 
Currier, Elizabeth C. Dean, Joseph Dow, 
Asa Kimball. John Converse, Urania X. 
Converse. Rhoda C. Putnam. Joanna L. 
Chase, Alonzo Currier, Emily Currier. 

Rev. Abiel Silver continued to preach 
In Contoocook till April 4, 1S5S, building 
during his residence in Contoocook the 
house now occupied by John F. Jones, 
Esq. On the loth of August. 1S5S, the 
Rev. George H. Marston, of Liming- 
ton, Me., became the minister, contin- 
uing till the month of October, 1S62. 
Since October, 1S71, the Rev. Charles 
Hardon has been the regular minister of 
the church. 

During the times when this church 
has been without a settled minister va- 
rious persons have supplied the desk. 
The services have been frequently, and 
for months at a time, conducted by a 
reader. Mr. W. Scott Davis has officiat- 
ed a great deal in the capacity of reader. 
This church has suffered a good deal by 
removals and deaths. A Sunday-school 
lias been connected with the society 
since its earlier existence. 


The Methodists quite early had a foot- 
hold in this town. In 1S42 their allotted 
portion of the ministers tax was very 
small. Regular worship was held in the 
Academy at the lower village. Revs. 
Stephen Eastmau, John English and Jo- 

seph Hayes were among the ministers 
supplying regularly. The Methodist. 
Jl-alirai T.isuuue. ai ('kk-ov;*, mrni--' ■ ■: .] 
preachers to a greater or less extent. 
"We have not been able to rind any record 
of this society, which abandoned regu- 
lar services about 1S50. Previously to 
the year 1S71 there had been a number of 
Methodist families living for a longer or 
shorter time at Contoocook. Preaching 
had been sustaind also to some extent 
during a few previous years. On the 
20th of March. 1S71, at a meeting held at 
the house of George H. Ketch um, legal 
organization was effected as follows : 
Rev. L. Howard. President; George H. 
Ketchum, Secretary; W. A.Patterson, 
Treasurer; John F. Burnham, W". 31. 
Kempton and Samuel Curtice, Financial 
Committee. The society purposing to 
build a chnrch, on the 10th of the next 
month, at a meeting at Mr. Kemp ton's, 

D. X. Patterson, T. B. Hardy and Sam- 
uel Curtice were made a building com- 

The church was erected the same year 
at a cost of something over $2,000, on 
land purchased by the society of Samuel 
Curtice, and dedicated on the lGth of 
Xovember. It it a neat and tasty edifice. 
The society, though small, is active. 
The following have been preachers : — 
Rev. L. Howard, from 1870 to 1S73 in- 
clusive; Prof. J. B. Robinson, 1874; Rev. 

E. Adams, D. D., 1875; Rev. Joel A. 
Steele, 1S76; Rev. L. Howard, 1877 and 



That wide stretch of hilly country lying 
between the Merrimack and Connecticut 
rivers in this State was, a hundred and for- 
ty years ago. a densely- wooded wilderness. 
The few who would have ventured to oc- 
cupy it well knew that so long as the 
French remained in possession of Canada 
this region was in continual danger from 

attacks by the Indians. In 1746 these at- 
tacks had become so frequent and suc- 
cessful that many of the settlements 
commenced in the central and southern 
parts of the State had been abandoned. 
There remained on the Merrimack small 
openings at Nashua, Litchfield, Concord, 
Boscawen and Canterbury, and one at 



Hinsdale and another at Charlestown on 
th Connectie«fe5 bnfctheeniire inidkuMi : ' 
between tbese valleys was an unbroken, 
heavily-wooded country. 


In the fall of 1747 two explorers from 
Dunstable, Xehemiah Lovewell and John 
Gilson, started from the present site of 
Xashua for the purpose of examining the 
slope of the Merrimack, and of crossing 
the height of land to Number Four, now 
Charlestown, which was known as the 
most northern settlement in the Connecti- 
cut valley. Knowing the difficulties in 
traversing hills and valleys mostly cov- 
ered with underbrush and rough with 
fallen timber and huge bowlders, they 
carried as light an outfit as possible— a 
musket and camp-blanket each, with five 
days' provisions. Following the Souhe- 
gan to Milford and "Wilton, they then 
turned north ward. and crossing the height 
of land in the limits of the present town 
of Stoddard, had on the afternoon of the 
third day their first view of the broad 
valley westward, with a dim outline of 
the mountains beyond. The weather 
was clear and pleasant, the journey la- 
borious but invigorating. On their 
fourth night they camped on the banks 
of the Connecticut, some ten miles 
below Charlestown. At noon of the 
next day they were welcomed at the 
rude fort, which had already won renown 
by the heroic valor of its little garrison. 


At this time the fort at Number Four 
was commanded by Capt. Fhineas Ste- 
vens, a man of great energy and bravery. 
Lovewell and Gilson were the first visi- 
tors from the valley of the Merrimack, 
and their arrival was a novelty. That 
night, as in later days they used to re- 
late, they sat up till midnight, listening 
to the fierce struggles which the inmates 
of this. rude fortress, far up in the woods, 
bad encountered within the previous 
right months. The preceding winter 
this fort had been abandoned, and the 
few settlers had been compelled to re- 
turn to Massachusetts. But Governor 
Shirley felt that so important an outpost 
should be maintained. As soon as the 

melting of tk^ deep snow in the woods 
would permit, Capt. Stevens, with thirty 
rangers, left Deerrield for Number jr our, 
and reached it on the last day of March. 
The arrival was most fortunate. Hardly 
was the fort garrisoned and the entranc- 
es made secure when it was attacked by 
a large force of French and Indians. 
Led by Debeline, an experienced com- 
mander, they had come undiscovered and 
lay in ambush for a favorable moment 
to begin the attack. But the faithful 
dogs of the garrison gave notice 01 the 
concealed foe. Finding they were dis- 
covered the Indians opened a tire on all 
sides of the fort. The adjacer: log 
houses and fences were set on fire. 
Flaming arrows fell incessantly upon the 
roof. The wind rose and the fort was 
surrounded by flames. Stevens dug 
trenches under the walls and through 
these the men crept and put out the fires 
that casght outside the walls. 


For two days the firing had been kept 
up and hundreds of balls had been It iged 
in the for: and stockade. On the morn- 
ing of the third day Debeline sen: for- 
ward a flag of truce. A French ofiicer 
and two Indians advanced and proposed 
terras of capitulation, which were that 
the garrison should lay down their arms 
and be conducted prisoners to Montreal. 
It was agreed that the two commanders 
should meet and Capt. Stevens's answer 
should be given. When they me:. Deb- 
eline, without waiting for an answer, 
threatened to storm the fort and put ev- 
ery man to the sword if a surrender was 
not speedily made. Stevens replied that 
he should defend it to the last. "Go 
back," said the Frenchman, " and see if 
your men dare fight any longer." Ste- 
vens returned and put to the men the 
question. u Will you fight or surren- 
der'?' 1 They answered, " We will fight." 
This answer was at once made known to 
the enemy, and both parties resumed 
arms. Severe fighting was kept up dur- 
ing the day. The Indians, in approach- 
ing the stockade were compelled to ex- 
pose themselves. They had already lost 
over a dozen of their number, while not 



one had been killed in the fort and only 
two wounded. 

'me Fiench commander, reluctantly 
giving up all hopes of carrying the for- 
tification, returned toward Canada. The 
cool intrepidity of the rangers saved 
Number Four, and the news caused great 
rejoicing throughout the Xew England 
colonies. Sir Charles Knowles, then in 
command of the fleet at Boston, sent 
Capt. Stevens an elegant sword, and a 
letter of commendation to the intrepid 
soldiers. Subsequently, in compliment 
to the English Commodore. Xumber 
Four was called Charlestown. But 
while no further attacks were made 
upon the fort that year, the Indians con- 
tinued to hover around this and the ad- 
jacent settlements of Brattleboro and 
Westmoreland. In August three men 
were killed and one captured in going 
from the fort down the river. Only a 
few weeks before the arrival of Love- 
well and his companion several settlers 
were captured while harvesting and 
carried away to Canada. 


Tarrying several days with the garri- 
son, during which the weather continued 
clear and mild, the two explorers were 
ready to return homeward. In a direct 
line Dunstable was less than ninety 
miles distant. With the needed supply 
of salt pork and corn bread, Lovewell 
and Gilson left Xumber Four at sunrise 
on the 16th of Xovember. The fallen 
leaves were crisp with frost as they en- 
tered the deep maple forests which skirt- 
ed the hills lying east of the Connecticut 
intervales. The days being short it was 
necessary to lose no time between sun- 
rise and sunset. The air was cool and 
stimulated them to vigorously hurry for- 
ward. Coming to a clear spring soon 
after midday, Gilson struck a fire, and 
resting for a half an hour, they sat down 
to a marvelously good feast of broiled 
salt pork and brown bread. One who 
has never eaten a dinner under like con- 
ditions can have no idea of its keen rel- 
ish and appreciation. 

It was now evident that a change of 
the weather was at hand. The air was 
growing colder and the sky was over- 

cast with a thick haze. In returning it 
had.been fc&etr purpose to cross the wa- 
tershed between the two valleys at a 
more northern point, so as to reach the 
Merrimack near the mouth of the Piscat- 
aquog. Their course was to be only a 
few degrees south ef east. Before night 
the sleet began to fall, which was soon 
changed to a cold, cheerless rain. Dark- 
ness came on early and the two men hur- 
ried to secure the best shelter possible. 
With an ax this might have been made 
comfortable; at least fuel could have 
been procured for a comfortable fire. As 
it was. no retreat could be found from 
the chilling rain which now began to 
fall in torrents. It was with difficulty 
that a smouldering fire, more prolific of 
smoke than heat could be kindled. India 
rubber blankets, such as now keep the 
scout and the sentry dry in the fiercest 
storm, would have been a rich luxury to 
these solitary pioneers. The owls, at- 
tracted by the dim light, perched them- 
selves overhead and hooted incessantly. 
Before midnight the fire was extin- 
guished, and the two men could only keep 
from a thorough drenching by sitting 
upright with their backs against a large 
tree, and with their half-saturated blank- 
ets drawn closely around them. 


Daylight brought no relief, as the rain 
and cold rather increased, and the sleet 
and ice began to encrust the ground. 
After ineffectual attempts to build a fire 
they eat a cold lunch of bread. A dark 
mist succeeded the heavy rain and con- 
tinued through the day. Both felt un- 
certain of the direction they were travel- 
ing, and every hour the uncertainty be- 
come more perplexing. All day long 
they hurried forward through the drip- 
ping underbrush which was wetting 
them to the skin. Xight again set in, 
and although the rain and wind had 
somewhat abated, still it was impossible 
to build and keep a fire sufficient to dry 
their clothing, which was now saturated 
with water. 

The third morning came with a dense 
fog still shrouding the hillsides and set- 
tling into valleys. Stiff with the effects 
of c61d and fatigue, Lovewell and his 


ipanJon felt that with their scanty 
< -' W, .,;]. now Dvuialy satt pork, 
they dared not await a change of weath- 
« r. Yet there was a vague feeling that 
Ibcir journeying might be worse than 
useless. Deciding on what they believed 
% course due east they again hurried for- 
ward over a broken region — an alterna- 
tion of sharp hills, ledges, low valleys 
and sometimes swamps, until a little 
past mid-daj-.when descending a hill they 
came upon the very brook where they 
bad camped forty hours before ! One 
fact was now established— they had been 
traversing in a circle. Thinking it use- 
less to go further till the sun and sky 
should appear, they set to work to build 
a fire sufficient to dry their clothing 
and to cook their raw pork. By dark 
they had thrown up a light framework, 
and by a diligent use of their knives had 
procured a covering of birch bark. Pil- 
ing the huge broken limbs in front they 
lay down and full asleep. 

Scouts in the olden time were proverb- 
ial for awakening on the slightest provo- 
cation. Lovewell was aroused by what 
he thought the rustling of a bear. Reach- 
ing for Ins gun he saw the outline of an 
animal climbing an oak just across the 
brook. The first shot was followed by a 
tumble from the tree. It proved a veri- 
table raccoon, which, fattened on beech- 
nuts, was k * as heavy as a small sheep.'' 

The fourth morning was not unlike 
that of the day previous. The fog was 
*till dense, but it soon became evident 
that the storm was past, and that the sun 
would soon disperse the mists. Dressing 
the raccoon, whose meat was security 
against famine, they anxiously watched 
the clearing up of the atmosphere. Sud- 
denly the mists dissolved and the sun- 
light touched the tops of the trees. The 
pioneers hastened up a long slope east- 
ward, and toward noon gained the crest 
of a high ridge. The sky was now clear, 
and climbing to the top of a tree, Gilson 
announced that he could see some miles 
to the east, a high and naked summit 
which must mark the height of land they 
were so anxiously seeking. 


With this solution of their difficulties 



came the sense of hunger. Notwith- 
standing the hardships of the three past 
days they had eaten sparingly. The 
remnant of their bread had been acci- 
dentally lost the day previous, but this 
was far more than compensated by the 
rich, tender meat of the raccoon. Luck- 
ily a supply of fat spruce knots wasnear 
at hand. Gilson set himself to the work 
of furnishing fuel and water, while Love- 
well attended to the culinary duties. 
The uteu.-ils of the modern hunter— fry- 
ing pan. coffee pot, plate, spoon and 
fork — were wanting. The only imple- 
ment in their outfit which could be of 
use was the jack-knife. The meat was 
cut into pieces two thirds of an inch thick 
and half the size of one's hand. Cutting 
several sticks two feet long, and sharp- 
ening them at each end, a piece of the 
salt pork and then a piece of the coon"s 
meat were thrust upon the stick alternate- 
ly in successive layers — so that in roast- 
ing, the fat of the latter, as it dropped 
down, basted and furnished an excellent 
gravy to the former. Oue end of each stick 
was thrust into the ground so as to lean 
over the glowing coals. With occasional 
turning the dinner was in half an hour 
ready to be served. Seating themselves 
on the bowlder by the side of which they 
had built the fire they fell to with sharp 
appetkes. Rarely was a feast more 
heartily enjoyed. 


It was past mid-day when the dinner 
was finished. Walking with renewed 
strength they reached the base of the 
mountain. The ground was wet and 
slippery and the climbing at times diffi- 
cult, but while the sun was yet an hour 
above the horizon the two men emerged 
from the low thicket which lies above the 
heavy growth, and stood upon the bald 
summit. Like all New Hampshire peaks 
whose altitude approaches three thou- 
sand feet, the crest of the mountain was 
of solid granite. The air had now grown 
quiet and the clear sunlight illuminated 
the landscape. The two explorers had 
never looked upon so wide and magnifi- 
cent a panorama. Westward was the 
far distant outline of a range now known 
as the Green Mountains. To the north- 



west were the bald crests of Ascutney 
pnri Cardigan. On the north lv?nr;;"irii-ii 
was seen struggling to raise its head 
above the shoulders of an intervening 
range, and through the frosty atmos- 
phere were revealed the sharp, snow- 
white peaks of Francouia. Eastward 
the highlands of Chester and Notting- 
ham bounded the vision — while nearer 
by reposed in quiet beauty the Uncanoo- 
nucks, at that time a well-known land- 
mark to every explorer. 

Warned by the freezing atmosphere 
they hastened down to a dense spruce 
growth on the northeast side of the 
mountain, and built their camp for the 
night. For some cause, perhaps because 
it was a sheltered nook, the tenants of 
the forest gathered around. The grove 
seemed alive with the squirrel, rabbit and 
partridge. But the hunters were weary, 
and as their sacks were still laden with 
coon's meat, these new visitors were left 
unharmed. The curiosity with which 
these wild tenants of the mountain lin- 
gered around led the two men to believe 
that they had never before approached 
a camp-fire or seen a human form. 

Just before daybreak Lovewell awoke 
and telling his companion to pre- 
pare for breakfast, returned to the sum- 
mit of the mountain. It was important 
to reach the Merrimack by the nearest 
route, and he could better judgG by re- 
viewing the landscape at early dawn. 
In after years he was wont to say that 
the stars never seemed so near as when 
he had gained the summit. The loneli- 
ness of the hour suggested to him what 
was probably the truth, that he and his 
companion were the first white men who 
had set foot on this mountain peak. It 
is situated in the eastern part of the 
present town of Washington, and its 

symmetrical, cone-like form is familiar 
to the eve ^jfniany.a reader of the Gtjan- 
ite Monthly. With the exception of 
Monadnock and Kearsarge it is the high- 
est summit in Southern New Hampshire, 
and to-day it bears the well-known name 
of Lovewell's Mountain. 


Before Lovewell left the summit, the 
adjacent woodlands became visible, and 
looking eastward down into the valley 
he saw only a few miles away a smoke 
curling up from the depths of the forest. 
It revealed the proximity either of a 
party of savages or a stray hunter. Re- 
turning to camp, breakfast was taken 
hurriedly, and descending into the val-" 
ley they proceeded with the utmost cau- 
tion. Reaching the vicinity of the smoke 
thej' heard voices and soon after the rus- 
tling of footsteps. Both dropped upon 
the ground. and fortunately were screened 
by a thick underbrush. A party of six 
Indians passed within a hundred yards. 
They were armed and evidently on their 
way to the Connecticut valley. As soon 
as they were beyond hearing the two 
men proceeded cautiously to the spot 
where the savages passed the night. 
They had breakfasted on parched acorns 
and the meat of some small animal, prob- 
ably the rabbit. 

Congratulating themselves on their 
lucky escape from a winter's captivity in 
Canada, Lovewell and his companion 
continued their route over the rolling 
lands now comprised in the towns of 
Hillsborough, Deering.Weare and Goffs- 
town to the Merrimack. From thence, 
they readily reached their home in Dun- 
stable. It may be well to add that Love- 
well was a relative of the famous Capt. 
John Lovewell, whose name is so well 
known in colonial history. 





AUGUST, 1878. 

NO. 2. 


In the last number, of the Granite 
Monthly there appeared a sketch and 
accompanying portrait of Hon. David 
1J. Bufl'um, President of the State Sen- 
ate. Appropriately following the same 
we take as our subject of illustration for 
this number Hon. Joseph D. Weeks of 
Canaan, Senator from District Num- 
ber Eleven, and the Democratic candi- 
date for President of the Senate. 

Mr. Weeks is the eldest son of Hon. 
William Pickering Weeks of Canaan, a 
well-known and successful lawyer of 
Grafton County, and prominent member 
o f the Democratic party, to whom some 
reference in this connection seems emi- 
nently proper. He was a native of the 
town of Greenland, born Feb. 22, 1803, 
a son of Brackett and Sarah (Pickering) 
Weeks. The families of Weeks and 
Pickering from which he sprang, were 
among the early and leading families of 
that town, and their descendants now 
constitute a very considerable propor- 
tion of its population. He fitted for col- 
lege at Gilmanton Academy, among his 
schoolmates at which institution being 
Profs. Edwin D. and Dyer H. Sanborn 
and Dixi Crosby, and graduated at Dart- 
mouth in the class of 1826, the late Chief 

Justice Salmon P. Chase being a member 
of the same class, and also his room- 
mate. He studied law with Hs.yes & 
Cogswell of South Berwick, Me., and 
was admitted to the York County Bar 
at Alfred in 1829, but immediately re- 
moved to the town of Canaan and estab- 
lished himself in practice. By diligent 
application to business and careful at- 
tention to the interests of his clients, he 
soon secured a remunerative practice and 
won a high reputation as a safe and judi- 
cious counsellor. He continued in prac- 
tice until 1861, a period of thirty-two 
years, when he retired, taking up his 
residence upon a large farm just below 
the village. where he lived until his death 
in 1S70. He had devoted himself almost 
exclusively to the labors of his profes- 
sion, but his firm adherence to the prin- 
ciples of the Democratic party, as well 
as his high character and ability occa- 
sioned a demand for his services in pub- 
lic life at the hands of his fellow towns- 
men of that political faith, by whom he 
was chosen a representative to the Legis- 
lature at several times between 15-34 and 
1851. He was elected to the State Sen- 
ate in 1848 and 1849, and was chosen 
President of the Senate for the latter 



year. He also represented the town of 
Canaan in the Constitutional Convention 
of 1850. Mr. Weeks' principal competi- 
tor in the legal profession was the late 
Judge Jonathan Kittredge, who went 
from Lyme to Canaan a few years after 
Mr. Weeks located there, and remained 
there in practice until his appointment 
as a Justice of the Court of Common 
Pleas, when he removed to Concord. 
Opponents in politics as well as rivals in 
the profession, the contests between the 
two were numerous and at times most 
exciting, enlisting the sympathies of 
their personal and political friends and 
adherents. Among those who were stu- 
dents-at-law in the office of Mr. Weeks 
may be mentioned Ex-Chief Justice Jon- 
athan E. Sargent of Concord, as well as 
his present partner, William M. Chase, 
Esq., also, William T. Xorris of Danbury, 
and Caleb and Isaac X. Blodgect. the 
former now a lawyer of Boston and the 
latter of Franklin. Judge Sargent com- 
menced practice in Canaan as a partner 
of Mr. Weeks, remaining some three 
years, until 1847, when he removed to 
Wentworth. Isaac X. Blodgett also en- 
tered professional life as Mr. Weeks' 
partner, shortly before his retirement 
from practice. 

Mr. Weeks married, in 1833, Mary Eliz- 
abeth Doe, only daughter and eldest 
child of Joseph Doe, Esq., of Somers- 
worth, now Kollinsford, and a sister of 
Hon. Charles Doe, present Chief Justice 
of the Supreme Court of Xew Hamp- 
shire. Joseph Doe was a well-known 
merchant of Salmon Falls, but a native 
and former resident of Xewmarket. who 
married Mary Elizabeth Kicker, daugh- 
ter of Capt. Ebenezer Kicker of Somers- 
worth, from whose family also came the 
wife of John P. Hale. By this union he 
had five children, three sons and two 
daughters. The eldest being Joseph Doe 
Weeks, the subject of this sketch, the 
second William B. Weeks, Esq., a lawyer 
of Lebanon, and the third Marshall H. 
Weeks, now residing at Fairbury, Xeb., 
where he is extensively engaged in ag- 
riculture and the lumber trade. The 
daughters, Mary Elizabetn and Susan H. 
Weeks, the youngest of the children, ac- 

complished young ladies, still remain at 
home in Canaan, though usually spend- 
ing the winter abroad, either attnefeouth 
or West. 

Joseph Doe Weeks was born October 
23, 1837. being now in the forty-first year 
of his age. In early life he attended the 
district school and Canaan Academy. 
Subsequently he spent some time at the 
Academies at Meriden and South Ber- 
wick, Me., but returned home and com- 
pleted his preparation for college at Ca- 
naan Academy, the principal at that time 
being Burrill Porter, Jr., of Langdon, 
an accomplished teacher, whose life has 
since been devoted to that occupation, 
and who is now principal of the High 
School at Xorth Attleboro, Mass. Mr. 
Porter, by the way, graduated at Dart- 
mouth in the class of 1856, Gov. B. F. 
Prescott, and Caleb Blodgett, before- 
mentioned, being members of the same 
class. Mr. Blodgett, who was a Canaan 
boy, was a brilliant scholar and the lead- 
er of his class. In this connection it may 
properly be remarked that Canaan Acad- 
emy, which was incorporated in 1S39, 
was, for many years a popular institution 
of learning, with a large attendance of 
students from that and neighboring 
towns, and from abroad. Ex-Chief Jus- 
tice Sargent was one of the early prin- 
cipals of this institution. Subsequently 
Hon. Levi W. Barton of Xewport, then 
pursuing the study of law in the office 
of Judge Kittredge, became its princi- 
pal. Mr. Barton was recently heard to 
remark, in speaking of this school, that 
while he was principal there were seven 
promising young men in attendance who 
afterward became members of the legal 
profession. These were Caleb and I. X. 
Blodgett, and William M. Chase, before 
mentioned, Joseph D. Weeks, the sub- 
ject of this sketch, and his brother, Wil- 
liam B., Delavan Kittredge, a son of 
Judge Kittredge, now a lawyer in Xew 
York city, and W. A. Flanders, now of 
Wentworth. In these days there were 
from 150 to 200 students in attendance at 
the Academy. Latterly the school has 
declined in numbers and prestige, and 
there are now but two terms a year- 
spring and autumn— •with an average at- 




-:/ 1 * 



tendance of about fifty scholars. Her- 
bert F. Norris of Epping, Democratic 
candidate for Speaker of the House of 
Kepresentatives at the late session of the 
Legislature, was principal of this Acad- 
emy in 1873 and 1874. 

Mr. Weeks entered Dartmouth College 
in 1S57, graduating in 1861, his brother 
being a member of the same class, which 
also numbered among its members Wil- 
liam J. Tucker, now an eminent Ortho- 
dox clergyman of Xew York city, for- 
merly of Manchester, who was recently 
elected one of the Trustees of the Col- 
lege, George A. Marden and Edward T. 
Rowell, now joint editors and proprie- 
tors of the Lowell Courier, Henry M. 
Putney of the Manchester Mirror, and 
George A. Bruce, now Mayor of Somer- 
ville. Mass. Mr. Weeks was a diligent 
and faithful student, taking good rank in 
his class. Like a large share of the 
young men who have been students at 
Dartmouth, ho passed his winters while 
n college in the occupation of teaching. 

The first winter, that of 1S57-8, he 
taught the school in his own district, at 
Canaan "Street," the next at East Leb- 
anon, the third at W r ellfleet, Mass., and 
the fourth in the >; Littleworth" District, 
so called, in the city of Dover. 

Immediately after graduating from col- 
lege, in the summer of 1861, he commenc- 
ed the study of law in the office of Samuel 
M. Wheeler and Joshua G. Hall, then 
partners in practice, in Dover, where he 
remained about two years. He then 
passed a year in attendance at the Har- 
vard Law School in Cambridge, and 
completed his study preparatory to ad- 
mission to the bar, in his father's office 
with Mr. Blodgett. He was admitted to 
Grafton County bar, at Haverhill, at the 
September Term in 1864. He soon after 
went west and located for a year at 
Janesville, Wis., but not fancying the 
western country as a place of residence, 
he returned home in the spring of 1866 
and opened an office at East Canaan, 
where he engaged in the practice of his 



profession, having also an office at the 
i< Street " -ri-Vtnrp i]p remained n portion 
of the time, and making his home with 
his parents. His office and library at 
East Canaan were burned in the disas- 
trous conflagration in that place, in 1S72, 
since which time he has kept an office 
only at the " Street." 

Mr. Weeks is an active and earnest 
Democrat, and has for several years been 
accorded the leadership of his party in 
the town. He was elected a member of 
the Legislature from Canaan in 1S69 and 
again in 1870, serving the first year as a 
member of the Committee on Agricul- 
tural College, and the next on the Rail- 
road Committee. The first year Mr. 
Weeks' Committee was an important one, 
as it was at that time that the friends of 
Dartmouth College made their strenuous 
and (as it resulted) successful effort to 
secure the location of the Agricultural 
College at Hanover, and several Dart- 
mouth graduates, including Mr. Weeks, 
were made members of the Committee, 
unquestionably with a view to the pro- 
motion of that object, and for which they 
labored with due zeal. The Railroad 
Committee, of which he was a member 
during his second year's service, was 
busied with the consideration of impor- 
tant questions arising from the exciting 
controversy between the Concord and 
Northern Railroads. During his service 
in the House he established a reputation 
as an intelligent and industrious legisla- 
tor, making no pretentions to display, 
but devoting himself faithfully to the 
promotion of the interests of his constit- 
uents and the State at large, as regarded 
from the stand-point of his own judg- 

In 1875 Mr. Weeks received the Dem- 
ocratic nomination for Seuator in his Dis- 
trict, then one of the so-called u close" 
districts of the State, and was elected. 
He served as a member of the Judiciary 
and Railroad Committees in that body, 
being chairman of the former. In 1S7G 
he was again a candidate, but was de- 
feated by James W. Johnson of Enfield, 
the Republican nominee, a man of great 
resources and tireless energy, who suc- 
ceeded in carrying the district by a small 

majority. This year the Republicans 
again socured full control cf the Legis- 
lature, aud made such changes in the 
Senatorial Districts as to render a con- 
test well nigh hopeless on the part of 
any Democratic candidate in Number 
Eleven, where Messrs. Johnson aud 
Weeks were again the candidates of their 
respective parties the following year, and 
the former was re-elected, as a matter of 
course. In the last canvass, however, 
Mr. Johnson not being a candidate, the 
Democracy again insisted upon the re- 
nomination of Mr. Weeks, who after a 
vigorous campaign was elected over C. 
O. Barney, Esq., of the same town, the 
Republican nominee. At the opening of 
the late session of the Legislature he 
received the compliment of the Demo- 
cratic nomination for President of the 
Senate, and served, during the session, 
upon the committees on the Judiciary and 
Education. In the Senate, as in the 
House, Mr. Weeks rendered efficient ser- 
vice as a practical legislator, and his 
judgment was seldom questioned on mat- 
ters involving general public interests. 

Mr. Weeks is unmarried, and his moth- 
er, sisters and himself have their home 
together. The large farm and extensive 
outlands of which his father died pos- 
sessed, are still held, but in 1874 the fam- 
ily residence was changed to the Dow- 
ning place, so called, a fine location on 
the bi Street," which Mr. Weeks had pur- 
chased the previous year, and re-fitted 
and repaired in a thorough manner, 
building a first class stable, where he 
keeps about a half a dozen of the finest 
horses to be found in Grafton county. 
The love for good horses is, in fact, al- 
most a passion with Mr. Weeks, and who- 
ever of his friends and acquaintances is 
permitted to enjoy the ho s pitalities of 
his home is sure to be favored with a de- 
lightful drive behind some of his favor- 
ites, through that romantic region. 

Canaan k ' Street," as the old village of 
Canaan has always been called, is one of 
the most charming localities, in summer, 
to be found in New Hampshire. The vil- 
lage is built upon the two sides of a sin- 
gle, broad street, extending a mile, north 
and south, in a straight line. The street 

Is lined on either side with shade trees, management of a 


the dwellings are neat and attractive, 
aud the location,, upon an elevated (sable* 
land, commands a tine view of the sur- 
rounding country, restricted only by the 
mountain ranges in the distance. Before 
the advent of the railway this was an im- 
portant business point, being one of the 
old stage centres, but the passage of the 
railroad through the lower part of the 
town, and the building up of a village at 
the " Depot," or East Canaan, has car- 
ried the current of business in that di- j 
rection. This renders the Street a quiet 
and pleasant resort for summer visitors, 
and of late, many people from the cities 
have been attracted thither, and taken 
up their abode during the summer 
months. The spacious mansion upon the 
Weeks farm, among other fine old resi- 
dences in the place, is now occupied as 
a summer boarding house. 

The care of the large estate left by his 
father in various investments, the over- 
sight of his extensive farming opera- 
tions, the attention to such legal busi- 
ness as naturally comes to his hands, 
and other business cares, including the 

lumber mill, above 
Factory Village, so-called, which recent- 
ly o;">m<> i;:ro hia p-.^session, and wMeh h 
adjacent to a large tract of heavy pine 
and spruce timber, of which he is the 
principal owner, together with the inter- 
est which he takes in general public af- 
fairs, educational, political and other- 
wise, keeps Mr. Weeks fully and actively 
employed, so that, although inheriting 
ample means, he has neither the oppor- 
tunity nor disposition to follow a life of 
ease and leisure, which many in his situ- 
ation would seek. 

Mr. Weeks is an active member of the 
Mascoma Valley Agricultural Society, 
has been Superintending School Commit- 
tee of the town, and in all movements in- 
volving the material, educational, and 
social welfare and progress of the com- 
munity he always occupies a leading po- 
sition. He was also one of the delegates 
from his town in the Constitutional Con- 
vention of 1S76. He is a member of no 
religious denomination, but attends upon 
the services and contributes liberally to 
the support of the Methodist church in 
his village. 


Fast the minutes pass away, 
Fades the day, and night is falling 
O'er the earth. Beyond recalling, 
Days like life will have their birth, 
Life like days will pass away. 
Slowly sinking from my sight 
Pass dear faces, well-known places ; 
Death, you meet me, but I greet thee — 
See! where yonder dawns the light, 
The morn has come to life's dark night. 

— WillE. Walker. 





14 Good-bye, Josephine. You will not 
forget our pleasant companionship of the 
past few weeks, will }*ou, little friend ?" 

The summer sun was just going out of ^ 
sight behind the tall hills which rose far 
above the little red farm house covered 
with climbing roses and clematis, and its 
last rays lighted the tops of the tall trees 
in the distance, while the entire valley 
rested in the shade of the approaching 
evening. Afar off the call of the cow 
boy sounded, ringing out upon the still- 
ness with a monotony that grated harsh- 
ly upon the ear of the stylish young man 
who leaned so lazily against the fence 
that enclosed Farmer Granger's neat lit- 
tle home. His black eyes were fixed 
searchingly upon the sweet face of a 
young girl who stood just inside the gate- 
way, one slender hand resting upon the 
gate, which stood open. At his words 
there had been an eager, upward glance 
of the brown eyes, which dropped be- 
neath the piercing look of her compan- 
ion. Slowly the color faded out of the 
perfect face, and a slight shiver passed 
over her slender form, but only for a mo- 
ment — then she raised her head proudly 
and half defiantly as she replied ; 

44 Indeed, Mr. Courtney, I cannot 
promise. Of course I shall not entirely 
forget, but time, you know, changes ev- 
erything so completely that we cannot 
be sure of anything. In one month you 
will have forgotten that there is such a 
place as Glenville or Glen Cottage and 
its inmates. Is it not so ? " 

"Forget you, Josie? Never!" was 
the answer, a ring of falseness in the low 
tone as he replied. 

11 1 prefer to be called Josephine, Mr. 
Courtney, and I do not wish you to make 
any rash promises." a laugh coming from 
the sweet lips as easily as if the little 
heart beating so rapidly was not filled 
With the keenest pain. 

44 IIow can you be so cruel to me, Jo- 
sephine? Have I indeed been mistaken 
in thinking that you have enjoj'ed our 
companionship, even as I have? Oh, 
Josephine, you do not realize how your 
sweet face will haunt me as I go out 
from your presence into the world 

There was a little truth in these words, 
and for the moment he really regretted 
the pastime which had been such cruel 
sport, and which had resulted in his win- 
ning the love of this sweet country lass, 
Josephine Granger. He knew she loved 
him. despite the coldness and light-heart- 
edness she had assumed. 

44 Walk with me as far as the elm, will 
you not?" said he, turning slowly away 
at length. 

4i Certainly, Mr. Courtney, if you wish ; 
although I might as well bid. you good- 
bye here, I suppose," said Josephine, as 
she passed out through the gateway, 
bringing it shut behind her. 

The road wound along beside a small 
river on the one side, while on the other 
rose the tall hills previously mentioned. 
There was a sad murmur in the music of 
the river this evening which Josephine 
had never noticed before. The twitter 
of the birds annoyed her; and the low- 
ing of the cows, homeward bound, 
sounded, for the first time in her life, dis- 
agreeable. The sun had gone out of 
sight, leaving shadows in its place, just 
as the sunshine of her life was departing. 
She had been so happy here in her coun- 
try home, content to perform her tasks 
without a wish for what lay beyond her 
humble sphere. Six weeks ago, Lee 
Courtney had presented himself at Glen 
Cottage and desired board for two weeks. 
The two had multiplied themselves into 
six, however, and now a summons from 
his father, in the form of a telegram, had 
caused him to pack up hia eflects with" 



oat loss of time and take his departure. 
Ills stay at the little- red farm-house, or 
•M.iiuu Cottage," as he himseifhad ehris- 
toued it, had been most pleasant, and as 
be walked slowly along he thought of 
the girl who had met him so frankly 
upon his arrival at her home, rilled his 
room with flowers, prepared his favorite 
dishes and picked the ripest berries for 
him, and involuntarily his eyes rested 
upon her now walking by his side. She 
Beemed a different being. The former 
was a happy girl, without a trace of care 
In the lovely brown e\-es; the latter 
seemed a woman. The erect, even 
haughty, figure walked steadily by his 
side, but there was a look of sorrow in 
the eyes which could not be concealed. 
The hand which carried a bunch of sweet 
clover trembled slightly as he took it 
gently in his own. They reached the 
4k elm tree " at length, and, pausing, Jo- 
sephine said with a smile : 

"Well, Mr. Courtney, I wish you a 
pleasant journey home, and a pleasant 
one through life." 

Her coolness vexed him, and he made 
a sudden resolve to compel her to own 
that she loved him. Where would be the 
harm, he reasoned. If harm there was, 
it had already been done, so turning 
quickly toward her, he clasped both her 
little toil-stained hands in his own, say- 
ing softly : 

41 Josephine, my darling, how can my 
life journe3 T De pleasant unless you share 
it with me? My love, tell me that I may 
return to you, may win you and take 
you away from this country life to a 
home you are so much better adapted to 
Mdorn. My sweet girl, tell me that you 
love me." 

Withdrawing her hands from his grasp, 

ne covered her blushing face with them, 

while the bunch of sweet clover feel un- 

reded to the ground, but she made no 

l --'ply. 

"Tell me, Josephine, do you care for" said he, drawing her closely to his 

- de and gently forcing the hands from 

or face. At length she raised her head 

nidly, the color coming and going in 
'•" tves of crimson and white, as she mur- 
mured softly : 

" Yes. Lee, I do love you with all my 
heart; but I — I — thought you were only 
s musing yourself at my expense." 

There beneath the old elm they stood 
talking until the coming shadows of 
night warned Josephine that she must 
return home. The parting was bitter to 
the girl, and her evident sorrow touched 
even Lee Courtney's callous heart and 
caused him to exclaim to himself, when 
at length he found himself alone upon 
the road leading to the village of Gien- 
ville : 

11 1 am a precious rascal, and no mis- 
take! What possessed me to make the 
girl love me? Well, time will cure her 
of her folly, and I will stop this business. 
By George, I pitied her, but it cannot be 
helped now ; so good-bye, my pretty 
wild flower, and now for home and Xora 
Weston's bright eyes and golden charms. 
I wish Josephine had Nora's wealth. I 
do believe I should like the former best 
if it were at all prudent to do so. I will 
write her a dozen letters or so and grad- 
ually let the affair die away. Confound 
it ! I do believe I have got a conscience 
after all ! " 

Back again to the quiet home so lonely 
now, so desolate. One by one the stars 
came forth, and anon the moon shone 
down upon the quiet spot, lighting it 
with a tender radiance, and falling upon 
the sad face of the girl who leaned from 
her chamber window, her eyes misty 
with unshed tears, wandering toward the 
village whose tall church spires she 
could just distinguish in the distance — 
thinking of him who had made so great 
a change in her quiet life. She could 
never be the same again, free from care, 
content to perform her homely tasks, 
caring for naught but her home, her par- 
ents and the few humble friends of her 
girlhood. She must study — must fit her- 
self for the home to which he had prom- 
ised to take her. She would go away 
where she could learn all the graces he 
so much admired. Her parents would 
miss her, but they would learn to do 
without her, and when she had obtained 
the knowledge she so much desired, and 
she was Lee Courtney's wife, they should 
spend the declining years of life with 



her. At length she gave one last, lin- 
gering look to the village where he was 
stopping for the nigkfy 3 then she 
sought her couch, but not to sleep. She 
heard the whistle of the departing train 
which bore him away in the early dawn, 
and she could but wonder at the dreary 
heart-ache, the utter desolation that 
came to her at the sound. 

A lovely day — the sun shone, the birds 
warbled, the air was filled with the 
sweetest odors. Josephine Granger was 
seated in the shade of a tall maple which 
stood near her home. She held an open 
letter in her hand, and a sweet, glad 
light shone from her lovely eyes. Lee 
really loved her — he had not forgotten 
her as she had feared when day after day 
passed and there had eome no word from 
him. The two weeks that had elapsed 
since he had left her seemed like so many 
months to the young girl, but now she 
held his first letter, brief and not just 
what she had fondly hoped it would be, 
but nevertheless a letter, and now the 
world had once more put on a look of 
beauty. There was not the faintest 
thought in her heart but that he loved 
her. She must tell her parents novo, and 
they would let her go away where she 
would receive an education which would 
fit her to be Lee Courtney's wife. A step 
near by arrested her attention, and 
glancing quickly upward she saw a 
young man approaching her, tall and 
sun-burned, but nevertheless handsome 
and manly. A shade of annoyance 
passed over her face at being thus dis- 
turbed in her day-dreams, but it gave 
way to a look ot pleasure as she made 
room for him at her side, at the same 
time sa}ing: 

" Well, Frank, you are back again. I 
am glad to see you. How do you like 
your new home?" 

"Oh, little girl, it is just a jolly place. 
I really think there's not a handsomer 
farm this side the Connecticut than mine. 
Mother's a little lonesome, the folks be- 
ing all strangers to her, you know," he 
replied, a little awed by the change he 
felt rather than saw in the girl by his 

'* Of course that was to have been ex- 

pected, Frank. There are not many old 
ladies wiio would have so willingly given 
up tlir' home wliicu had been t.l-, i-lrs for 
so many years, as did your mother! 
She is well, is she not?" 

" Yes. oh. yes, she is well — but, I say, 
little girl, what's come over you? You 
don't seem at all like the Josephine I 
left at Glenville depot the day we went 
away. Are you sick?" 

A flush dyed her face, but she laugh- 
ingly replied : 

" No, Frank, I am not sick — on the 
contrary, I am perfectly well and 
happy," a tender light coining into her 
eyes as she raised them to her compan- 
ion's face. Why not tell him of the love 
which had come into her life? He had 
been her friend always, her companion 
to and from school, the one true and con- 
stant friend that takes the place of a 
brother. He had been the one to show 
her where the nicest berries grew, to 
gather pond-lilies for her — in short, she 
had loved him as if he had been her 
brother, and when he had sold the old 
rocky farm on the hill-side and bought a 
larger one upon the banks of the Connec- 
ticut, distant some twenty miles from her 
home, she had shed bitter tears. He had 
been absent but three months and it was 
pleasant to have him back again, and — 
yes, she would tell him; but first she 
would acquaint him with her intention of 
leaving home, so, looking up into his 
kindly face, she said suddenly : 

ki I am going away, Frank. I intend 
to go to some large school for young 
ladies, and I wish to be something more 
than an uneducated farmer's daughter." 
Then, not noting the pained look that 
came into his face, she said softly, hiding 
her blushing face from his eager gaze: 
"I — 1 wish to tell 3 r ou something, brother 
Frank, but I don't know how to tell it." 

There was no reply for a moment, 
then, looking up, Josephine saw that the 
browned face had grown quite pale. 

" You don't need to tell me, little 
girl," — his pet name for her always. k * I 
heard something at the village, but I 
would not, could not believe it. I see 
now that it is true. Oh. Josephine, did 
you not guess that I loved you, that I 



I coming back for you? That city 
H ip could not care for you a tenth part 
v tt&t i do and always have." 

•* I am so sorry. Frank. I never 
thou glit you cared for me in this way." 
murmured Josephine, bursting into tears 
of real sorrow. 

" No, little girl;. I see how loolish I 
was. I might have won your love had I 
told you of my own before Lee Courtney 
turned your head with his soft words 
that meant nothing to him, but which 
won your heart at once. Oh. Josephine ! 
1 can't realize it yet, you know — I can't 
believe I have lost you. 1 have loved 
you all my life, little girl." 

There was an earnestness in the words 
and lone of Frank Clyde's voice that the 
£irl had missed in the smooth, honied 
words of Lee Courtney, and it struck her 
more forcibly than ever before as she 
contrasted the two — the one rough and 
uncultured, but so good and noble, the 
other rich, handsome, well educated, but 
yet lacking something which she could 
tiot define, but it gave her the heart-ache 

,k Oh, Frank, don't talk to me any 
more about it, for it can never be, you 
know. You must always be my brother 
just the same, and we will try and forget 
you ever cared for me in any other 

"Forget you, little girl? I shall as 
soon forget the sun that shines as to for- 
get the love I have given to you. I shall 
go away, but I shall always love you 
just the same. Good-bye, little girl." 
His voice grew husky as he spoke, and 
ri>iug from his seat by her side, he threw 
both arms around her, held her one mo- 
ment to his heart, pressed a long, linger- 
ing kiss upon the flushed forehead, and 
turning quickly he hurried away, not 
pausing or looking back. It was years 
ere they met again. 

it was a lovely day in autumn when at 
last Josephine stood in the door-way of 
iter humble home, ready equipped for 
her departure. Her mother stood near 
by, wiping the fast falling tears upon the 
corner of her calico apron, her heart 
filled with grief at this parting. There 
iiad been expostulations and entreaties 

when her daughter had made known her 
determination to leave home, but they 
hat! !;<•-'!? &$ t!<! avui, so at i-a&l the wor- 
thy farmer and his wife had set about 
preparing lor their daughter's departure 
with sorrow-tilled hearts. The day long 
dreaded had arrived, and now the hour 
of parting had come. Her father carried 
her to the village, where she was to take 
the afternoon train for her destination, a 
large flourishing town in New York. 
Old ties were broken now, and a new 
life, new associations, were to be formed. 
Her heart beat high with hope, notwith- 
standing the real grief she felt at leaving 
home. I would gladly follow her 
through the weeks that came, but space 
will not permit. I will simply say that 
her school life proved all that she had 
anticipated. She learned easily and rap- 
idly. Letters came from home every 
week, and from Lee Courtney occasional- 
ly. She stillled any fear she may have 
felt at his coolness, and time passed 
quickly away. 

It was in the early spring-time when 
she knew at last that the one hope 
of her life had crumbled, as it were, into 
ashes. Several weeks had elapsed since 
she had received a letter from Lee, and 
her companions had noticed that the 
sweet face had grown paler and her hap- 
py laughter no longer rang out in unison 
with their own. One evening the mail- 
bag had been carried into the long din- 
ing-hall to be opened and the contents 
to be distributed among the many pupils 
assembled there. There was no sign 
from Josephine, when at length it was 
emptied and carried away, that she had 
expected a letter, yet she had felt so sure 
that she should hear from him that night. 
Her head ached and throbbed terribly, 
so, arising, she asked to be excused and 
left the room and sought her own, where 
she knelt down by the window— an old 
habit which clung to her in her new 
life— and gazed wearily out upon the 
grounds surrounding the seminary. A 
long time she knelt there, but at length 
her room mate, Ellen ^Y"eston, entered 
the room with a song upon her lips. She 
carried a paper in her hand. 

" I declare, Josephine, what has come 



over you? You are sober as an owl," 
she said. 

"Ton have received good aew», 1 con- 
clude, Ellen,*' said her friend, wearily 
•arising from the window. 

" Yes, and you have none. That ac- 
counts for your long face. You recol- 
lect hearing me speak of my cousin 
Nora, do you not?" 

11 Yes, and you promised to show me 
her picture,*' replied Josephine, with an 
attempt at animation. 

" Yes, I will do so, and also that of 
her husband. They were married last 
Wednesday, and this paper contains an 
account of the wedding. After you have 
looked at their pictured faces I will read 
you what this paper states in regard to 
them," returned Ellen. 

A moment later she had procured two 
photographs, and after a hasty glance at 
them, threw them on the table beside 
which her friend was seated. Josephine 
took up the pictures, and her gaze fell 
upon the face of Lee Courtney. 

"How came you by Lee Courtney's 
picture?" she asked, turning her white 
face toward her friend. 

11 Why, he is cousiu Nora's husband, 
Josephine; but where did you ever see, 
him, in the name of wonder?" replied 
Ellen in surprise. 

She did not faint; even the bliss of un- 
consciousness was denied her. After- 
ward she remembered that she had given 
some common-place answer, and then, 
making some remark about her aching 
head, had sought her bed. and through 
the long hours of the night had fought 
with the pain at her crushed heart. She 
saw it all now— saw how blind she had 
been from the first. Two weeks later 
there came a letter to the anxious par- 
ents at the farm-house, saying: 

" Father — mother — you will have 
learned ere you receive this how basely 
I have been deceived. I cannot talk of it 
yet — the pain is too severe; neither can 
I remain here at school or return to you. 
So by the time you receive this I shall 
be far away. A lady— a friend of my 
room mate — wishes a companion on a 
journey to Europe, and has kindly con- 
sented to allow me to fill that place. II 

I live I shall return to you in time. 
Good-bye, dear kind parents. 

Yon* uuhappy daughter, 

Through all the years that followed 
there came no sign that she yet lived, 
until ten long years had passed — then to 
the care-worn parents there came at last 
a letter, telling them that she was yet 
alive and would be with them almost as 
soon as her letter reached them. Jose- 
phine Granger left home a young girl 
full of hope. She returned a woman, 
beautiful and wealthy, and no more to be 
compared with what she had once been 
than is the choicest garden flower to 
the simple field daisy. The lady in 
whose company she had travelled had 
learned to love the sad, pale-faced girl, 
and when at last death overtook her, Jo- 
sephine learned to her surprise that her 
kind friend had bequeathed a large por- 
tion of her vast wealth to herself. 

Home again, at last! There was infi- 
nite rest in the knowledge, and she 
would remain there until she could de- 
cide what to do in the future. 

41 Mother," said she, the day after her 
arrival home, " I have never heard one 
word concerning Frank Clyde since I left 
home. Is he yet living? " 

" Yes, my child ; and if you will go to 
church with us to-morrow you will see 
him," said her mother. 

On the morrow she once more entered 
the little white church at Glenville, but 
the faces raised to her own were nearly 
all strange to her. Involuntarily her 
eyes sought the pew where, years ago, 
she had been wont to see the kindly face 
of her friend, Frank Clyde. Mrs. Clyde 
sat there alone. 

" Frank is late, doubtless," she 
thought, settling herself back into her 
seat, and raising her eyes to the old- 
fashioned pulpit. The minister arose, 
and in a clear, impassioned voice began 
the services of the day. Surely some- 
where she had heard that voice. Could 
it be her old friend, Frank Clyde? An 
hour later she stood before him and felt 
the warm clasp of his hand and heard 
him welcome her home in the same old 
voice, cultivated now, to be sure, but 



jtfll the same. Her true friend always, 
realized at that moment what she 
bad thrown away — the pure gold for the 
glistening tinsel. Afterward she learned 
how his disappointed hopes had caused 
him to sell the farm he had bought 
thinking she would share his home with 
him, and go away; and how his mother 
came to live with the lonely parents she 
hud deserted, during his absence from 
his native place. Two years before Jose- 
phine's return ne had addressed the peo- 

ple of Glenville from the little pulpit in 
the little old church. 

One year afte* her return she wed*'-'..-. .; 
bells rang out a joyful peal as arm in 
arm Frank Clyde and Josephine Gran- 
ger walked into that same little church 
to be made one for the remainder of their 
lives ; and when later on that same day 
she entered her own home, there stole 
into her heart once more perfect rest and 



Internal politics have but a little 
chance for agitation when a new country 
h harassed by external foes. The first 
inhabitants of this town, besides being 
loyal subjects to the colonial authority of 
the Crown of England, were too actively 
engaged in the pursuit of a material ex- 
istence to indulge to any great extent in 
local political discussion. 

The Bow controversy, as it is some- 
times called, was earl} r a cause of litiga- 
tion to the inhabitants of this town. In 
1727, Jonathan Wiggin and others obtain- 
ed a grant of the township of Bow from 
the authorities of New Hampshire. This 
act ultimately led to contention with 
other parties holding grants of town- 
Ships from the authorities of Massachu- 
setts. Concord, Pembroke and Hopkin- 
ton were all involved in this controversy. 
Bow was at length obliged to yield over 
two-thirds of its territory * to these three 
towns, the final boundary lines being set- 
tled at different times from 1759 to 1765. 
In this controversy the town of Hopkin- 
ton was represented by Dea. Henry Mel- 
len, Adj. Thomas Mellen, and Timothy 

During the pending of the Bow claim, 
the town of Hopkinton became involved 
iuthe Mason controversy. John Tufton 

*Bow claimed a notch of a few square miles 
id UiC f»outii-east cornei of iiopkinton. 

Mason, presumed heir of John Mason, in 
consequence of an alleged defect in the 
sale of lands to Samuel Allen, in 1691, 
conveyed his interests in New Hamp- 
shire to twelve leading men of Ports- 
mouth, for fifteen hundred pounds. This 
was in 1746. The new proprietors, how- 
ever, were liberal, granting new town- 
ships for the simple conditions of a guar- 
anty for improvements by the occupants 
and the reservation of fifteen rights for 
themselves. Uuder the date of Novem- 
ber 30, 1750, we find a record of condi- 
tions obtaining in the case of the grant 
of this town. Henry Mellen, yeoman; 
Thomas Walker, cooper; Thomas Mel- 
len, cordwainer, and their associates, 
were grantees. One-fifth of the land was 
to be set apart on the west, to be exempt 
from all taxes till improved. One share 
was to be set apart for a minister, one 
share for a school, and a reservation for 
a mill privilege. There were to be thirty 
families in three years and sixty in seven 
years. There was to be a meeting-honse 
in three years, and a minister in seven 
years. The suitable white pine was to 
be reserved for His Majesty. In case of 
an Indian war the times expressed in this 
agreement were to be extended. In ease 
Bow took any territory the equivalent 
was to be made up from ungrauted Laads. 
The absence of local records during nu- 



merous years about the time of this 
transaction prevents a confident state- 
meat in regard to all the condttioBS that 
may have been implied in the Mason 
grant of this township. The absence of 
any reference to the " fifteen rights'- of 
the Mason proprietors, leads to the con- 
jecture it may be that those rights were 
bought by the grantees. » 

The distribution of the rights of the 
proprietors of the township under the 
new grant was as follows : Thomas Mel- 
len, 4;* Dea. Henry Mellen, 3; John 
Jones, Esq., John Chadwick, Jonathan 
Straw, Sampson Colby, Peter How, Jr., 
and Enoch Eastman, 2 each; Daniel and 
John Annis.2; Joseph Haven. Esq., Rev. 
Samuel Haven, John Haven, Thomas Bix- 
bee, Peter How. Joseph Haven, Timothy 
Townsend, Elder Joseph Haven. Simp- 
son Jones. Esq., Isaac Pratt, Jedediah 
Haven, Mark Whitney. Nathaniel Gibbs, 
Isaac Gibbs, John Jones. Jr., Benjamin 
Goddard, Eleazer Howard. Daniel Mel- 
len, James Lock, David Woodwell, Na- 
thaniel Chandler (heirs of), James Chad- 
wick (heirs of), Samuel Osgood, Aaron 
Kimball, Thomas Eastman, Timothy 
Clement, John Ilust (heirs of), William 
Peters, Ebenezer Eastman, Jacob Straw, 
Samuel Putney, Joseph Putney, Thomas 
Merrill, Joseph Eastman, Jacob Potter, 
Matthew Stanley, Abraham Colby, Isaac 
Chandler, Jr., Abner Kimball (heirs of), 
John Burbank, Caleb Burbank. Samuel 
Eastman, Stephen Hoyt, Isaac Whitney, 
Thomas Walker, Isaac Chandler, and Jo- 
seph Eastman, Jr., 1 each ; John and 
James Nutt, 1 ; Enoch and Ezra Hoyt, 1. 

Soon after the lirst occupation of the 
territory by the proprietors, this town- 
ship began to be called New Hopkinton, 
though known at lirst as No. 5. The 
present name of Hopkinton became the 
legal appellation under the act of incor- 
poration. Our renders will be interested 
in our notice of 


Anno Iiegni Regis Georgii Tertii. Magna 
BrittaniccBi Francies, et Mbernioe, etc., 
[S. S.] An Act to incorporate a Place 

*Tlm is a. doubtful figure in tiie original rec- 

called New Hopkinton, not within a 
Place heretofore incorporated, together 
wkh ih:\t i\ux of rht-- TowBS^fip &i> Bow 
which covers a Part of the said New 
Hopkinton, into a Town, invested with 
the Powers and Privileges of a Town. 

WHEREAS the Inhabitants of New 
Hopkinton (so called) together with the 
Inhabitants of that part of the Township 
of Bow which covers a part of said New 
Hopkinton have petitioned the General 
Assembly, representing the Difficulties 
which they are under for want of the 
Powers and Privileges of a Town, and 
therefore prayed that they might be join- 
ed, united and incorporated together into 
a Town and be invested with the Powers 
and Privileges which other Towns in the 
Province enjoy, 


Be it enacted by the Gouvernour, 
Council and Assembly, That that part of 
the Township of Bow which covers a 
Part of New Hopkinton be, and hereby 
is, separated from the rest of the said 
Township of Bow, and is joined to and 
united with the said New Hopkinton, to 
all Intents and Purposes : and that all 
the Land contained within the Bounds 
and Limits hereafter mentioned, and all 
the Persons who do or shall inhabit the 
same, their Polls and Estates, be and 
hereby are incorporated together into a 
Town, including all that part of the town- 
ship of Bow which covers a part of New 
Hopkinton, with the Polls and Estates; 
and are hereby invested and enfranchised 
with all the Powers and Privileges of 
any other Town iu the Province; and 
shall be called Hopkinton. 

A description of the boundaries of 
Hopkinton. together with certain gener- 
al laws and regulations, conclude the act 
of incorporation, done in the House of 
Representatives for the Province of New 
Hampshire, on 10th of January, 1765, 
and signed by H. Sherburne. Speaker; 
recorded in the Council the next day as 
passed, and signed by T. Atkinson, Sec- 
retary; consented to by B. Wentworth, 
Governor; and copies attested by the 
Secretary of the Council, and Enoch 
Eastman, Town Clerk. 

The act of incorporation provided that 



annual town meetings should be held on 

,;-,: V- 'ii.iay of March. Acting vsn- 
.i^rthis provision the first board of se- 
... -linen were chosen the same year. 
j - v were Capt. Matthew Stanly. Jona- 
than Straw and Serg. Isaac Chandler, 
l he incorporation of the town gave a new 
Impulse to internal affairs, and improve- 
ments progressed rapidly. 

The struggle for colonial independence 
occasioned the entertainment of provis- 
ions fur the maintenance of independent 
civil government. The people of this 
town recognized this necessity of civil 
government as well as others. At a towu 
meeting held on July IS, 1774. Capt. 
Jonathan Straw was chosen delegateto 
the convention held at Exeter on the 21st 
<<f the same month to succeed the pre- 
vious assembly dispersed by Governor 
John Wentworth. This convention chose 
Nathaniel Folsom and John Sullivan 
delegates to the Provincial Congress at 
Philadelphia. On the 9th of January. 
1775, Joshua Bayley was chosen dele- 
gate from Hopkinton to a second conven- 
tion at Exeter, to appoint delegates to a 
second Congress to be held on the 10th 
of May. John Sullivan and John Lang- 
don were appointed to the approaching 
Congress. On the day that Joshua Bayley 
was chosen delegate to Exeter the town 
of Hopkinton voted " to accept what the 
grand Congress has resolved." On the 
11th of December, 1775. Capt. Stephen 
Harriman was chosen representative to 
Exeter for one year. 

The success of the struggle for inde- 
pendence secured to the inhabitants of 
this town and all others the possession 
of their lands in fee simple, and the con- 
sciousness of an existence of free gov- 
ernmental privileges. opened 
the door to an earnestness and intensity 
of political controversy that many had not 
expected to experience. The task of es- 
tablishing a permanent civil government 
awakened a discussion between the doc- 
trines oi the concentration and distribu- 
tion of governmental agencies which have 
plagued legislators throughout a long 
historic past, and probably will continue 
to plague them for a long time to come. 
On the 13th of January, 1778, the town 

voted to accept of the articles of confed- 
eration, but on the 22d of the July fol- 
lowing tiie people, as states the town 
clerk, "Tryed a Vote for Pieceiving the 
Plan of Government — none for, But 106 
against it.'* On the 30th day of May, 
17S1. Joshua Bayley was chosen a com- 
mittee to attend an assembly* at Concord 
for the purpose of forming a plan of 
State government; yet on the 21st of 
January, and again on the 11th of Xo- 
vember, of the following year, the towu 
voted not to accept the plan of govern- 
ment as it then stood. On the 4th of 
March of this year, Capt. (Jonathan) 
Straw. Benjamin Wiggin and Isaac Bay- 
ley were chosen a committee to petition 
the General Court for a repeal of the 
oath of fidelity. On the 23d of Decem- 
ber it was voted to accept the plan of gov- 
ernment " with the amendment made by 
the committee, there being 100 votes.-' 
The substance of this matter related to 
the powers and privileges of the Govern 
or of the State; a compromise was effect- 
ed by the recommendation of the con- 
vention that the Governor be elected by 
the people, which plan was adopted. 

Under the new condition of affairs, 
Meshech Weare, of Hampton Falls, was 
elected President! of the State of Xew 
Hampshire. The vote of the town of 
Hopkinton that year stood fifty-six for 
Josiah Bartlett, of Kingston, and two 
for Timothy Walker, of Concord, and 
none for YVeare. On the following year 
John Langdon of Portsmouth received 
eighty-nine votes and Timothy Walker 

The uuauimous character of the votes 
cast in Hopkinton for chief executive of 
the State for many years subsequently to 
the independence of the American colo- 
nies attests the little progress that had 
been made in national politics. When at 
length the people became conscious of 
the great struggle between Federalism 
and Republicanism, the sympathies of 
this town gravitated steadily toward the 

"This assembly, or convention, held nine ses- 
sions and was in existence two years. 

jThe chief executive of the State was not 
called governor vntil 1752, when anew consti* 
tution came in force. 



Republican side. The growing state of 
the population, and the consequent in- 
creasing multiple character of the inhab- 
itants, soon prevented that degree of po- 
litical unanimity at first prevailing. In 
1S12 the contest between Federalism and 
Republicanism was at its height. The 
progress of the existing war was bitterly 
opposed by the Federalists; the Repub- 
licans were as intensely ardent in its sup- 
port. In 1S12 William Plummer, of Ep- 
ping. a Republican, was elected govern- 
or of New Hampshire. He had been a 
prominent Federalist but had seen lit to 
change his political position to the Re- 
publican side. His opponent was John 
Taylor Oilman, a life-long Federalist and 
popular citizen and official. Yet Hop- 
kinton, zealous of the principles and 
measures of the Republican party, gave 
192 votes to Plummer against 10S for 
Gilman. In 1S13, the town cast a much 
larger vote than on the previous year. 
The popular excitement occasioned by 
the war impelled the increased attend- 
ance at the polls. The candidates for the 
office for governor of the State were the 
same as the previous. The great person- 
al popularity of the man gave Gilman 
the election. Yet Hopkinton attested 
her devotion to Republicanism by giving 
Plummer 220 votes against 152 for the 
successful candidate. 

Among the changeable things in this 
world are the names of political parties. 
In the progress of popular events, the 
body of voters representing the es- 
sential principles of government held 
by the Federalists, came to be known as 
Wbigs, and later as Republicans; the 
upholders of the original Republican 
doctrines came to be known as Demo- 
crats. The later Republican party in 
this town has absorbed the most of 
the representatives of the once Free- 
soil party (which at one time at- 
tained to a respectable representation 
here), as well as also the voters of the 

American or " Know-nothing" party. 
The former Republicans and later Demo- 
crats held the advance on party rotes in 
this town till 1S65. In 1846. when An- 
thony Colby, of Xew London, s Whig, 
was chosen governor of Xew Hampshire, 
the vote of Hopkinton stood 245 f; r Jared 
W. Williams of Lancaster; lte for X~a- 
thaniel S. Berry of Hebron; 78 for An- 
thony Colby of Xew London, and two 
scattering. Williams was a Democrat 
and Berry a Free-soiier. In 1553 there 
was a close contest in this town fc rtween 
the Democrats, Americans, and the rem- 
nants of the Whig and Free-soil parties. 
The Democrats maintained a plurality 
on the governor's ticket. The vot€ stood 
248 for Nathaniel B. Baker of Concord; 
219 for Ralph Metcalf of Newport; 29 
for James Bell of Meredith, and seven 
for Asa Fowler of Concord. Baker was 
a Democrat, Metcalf an American. Bell a 
Whig and Fowler a Free-soiler. 

The Democrats lost this town en the 
State ticket for the first time in 1S35 : the 
vote stood 240 for Walter Harridan of 
Warner, Republican, against 220 for John 
G. Sinclair of Bethlehem. Democrat. 
The Democrats rallied again La 1S72, 
gaining a plurality. James A. Weston 
of Manchester, Democrat, had 243 votes; 
Ezekiel A. Straw of Manchester. Repub- 
lican, 241 ; there were two votes for Lem- 
uel P. Cooper of Croydon, Labcr Reform 
candidate. In 1875. the town wen: back 
to the Republicans, giving Person C. 
Cheney of Manchester, 256 votes, against 
241 for Hiram R. Roberts of Roln^sford, 
Democrat. The next year the Demo- 
crats carried the State ticket, giviug 
Daniel Marcy of Portsmouth. 25-5 votes, 
against 252 for Person C. Cher.ey. and 
two scattering. In lS77the Republicans 
took the ascendency, giving Benjamin 
F. Prescott of Epping, 201 votes, against 
215 for Daniel Marcy. The Republicans 
still maintain the balance of pever. 

FOEM. 47 


;:>♦ Uvered at the Quarter-Century Meeting of the Class of 53, Dartmouth College, Juno 26, 1S78.] 

Stay, Clotbo, stay thy fervid wheel, 

Let Lachesis cease twining; — 
The quarter skein upon her reel 

Our threads of life combining. 

Threads tinged by Life's "dissolving views" 

In shades of countless number ; — 
Some decked with Joy's celestial dews, 

Some smirched with sorrow's umber. 

"We come from out the dusty maze 

Where weaponed warriors glisten, 
Into each other's eyes to gaze, 

Each other's accents listen. 

Nor absent those whom duties hold 

To-day from our collection, 
Nor those whose dust 'neath grassy mold 

Awaits the resurrection. 

We feel the presence of our dead ; 

There are no vacant places ; 
Though Atropos has cut their thread 

We see their vanished faces. 

For bonds which classmates here assume 

Nor Time nor Death can sever: 
The shuttle flies in Friendship's loom 

Forever and forever. , 

On Time's tempestuous, trackless sea 
A momentary meeting, 
i2n gliding to the far To Be, 
u Hail and Farewell," our greeting. 

■avenly Pilot, do Thou guide 
To that fair port of entry 
Beyond this billowy, treacherous tide, 
Guarded by angel sentry. 

Who next of our departing band, 

The crown immortal winning, 
Shall pass within that vailed land? — 

Clotho, resume thy spinning. 





The Senate differs from the House in 
numbers, in membership, and in the 
character and methods ©f its legislation. 
Comparatively small when measured 
with the House, it is free from the turbu- 
lence and disorder so frequent at the oth- 
er end of the Capitol. In the House the 
Speaker pounds the desk with his mallet 
until he seems exhausted with his efforts 
to preserve even the semblance of order. 
In the Senate a slight tap of the Vice 
President's gavel is sufficient to repress 
any undue excitement among the honor- 
able Senators. As a whole, good order 
and parliamentary courtsey reign su- 
preme in the Senate chamber. Sometimes 
in an animated partisan debate an ill- 
timed remark may evoke a personal rejoin- 
der and lead to hot and hasty words ; but a 
night's sleep, and a friendly reminder of 
the "dignity" of an American Senator, 
sets everything right again, after the 
usual ••personal explanations."' 

In all of its visible surroundings the 
Senate resembles the House. The pre- 
siding officers, the clerks, the Sergeant- 
at-Arms, the official stenographers, 
each occupy the same relative positions, 
and perforin nearly similar duties. The 
Chamber is simply the Hall of the House 
made smaller. There is the same gor- 
geous gilding, the heavy cornices, the 
beautifully-designed, richly-painted glass 
panels overhead, the mellow light from 
above, the paintings, the frescoes, the 
uncomfortable desks, the lounges, the 
ante-rooms, the galleries, the diplomatic 
gallery conspicuously empty amid sur- 
rounding crowds, the newspaper report- 
ers' perch in the rear above the Vice 
President's chair, these, and other points 
of similarity are held in common by the 
two rooms of our American Parliament. 
Of the manner of election and duration 
of the term of service of Senators it is 

not my purpose to speak, that being a 
subject upon which all intelligent citi- 
zens are presumably well informed. It 
is to the differences in the character and 
methods of legislation of the Senate, to - 
which attention is particularly invited, 
and to which the bulk of this article will 
be devoted. Briefly, then, the action of 
the Senate is revisory in matters of busi- 
ness, and practically paramount in mat- 
ters of law. The House originates all 
appropriation bills. The Senate revises, 
suggests and amends. The Senate takes 
care of international affairs, negotiates 
foreign treaties, gives or withholds its 
approval to the men selected by the 
President to represent our government 
abroad, and exercises a fatherly and 
supervisory care over the Revised Stat- 
utes. Either House may be obstinate, 
and can. if it chooses, put the other to 
much inconvenience and delay; but the 
constitution and common consent pre- 
scribes the course that, under ordinary 
circumstances, each will pursue. Under 
our system of government, which has 
been aptly termed a system of •'checks 
and balances," neither the President, the 
Senate, or the House can change a law or 
appropriate a dollar, without the other's 
consent. With these existing conditions, 
certain legislative amenities must be re- 
garded — else all the machinery of gov- 
ernment would stop. Xo party dare 
take the responsibility of allowing the 
eleven regular appropriation bills to fail 
in either or both houses of Congress. 
The result would be, simply, that at the 
close of the fiscal year there would be no 
money that could be legally used to run 
any branch of the government. As long 
as our country comprises its present vast 
extent of territory, its commercial inter- 
course, and its multiplied and varied in- 
dustries, it must have the services of at 



least S0.000 to 100.000 persons to perform 
: vrorfc re<j»trei to acitfiim-sWi the so^v- 
ernment with any reasonable degree of 
efficiency. It must have, also, under the 
most favorable circumstances, not less 
than $150,000,000 annually, for the same 
j.urpose. To indicate how this vast sum 
shall be wisely and economically ex- 
pended is the principal problem that con- 
fronts the legislator, in either branch of 
Congress, and one to which he must give 
earnest and careful attention if he would 
avoid political shipwreck. A nation of 
mone3 T -worshippers may forget a vote 
giveu upon matters purely political, one 
unworthily bestowed, or one against 
which many objections can be urged; 
hut a false step in the vicinity of the 
"almighty dollar," may often prove fatal. 
Hence the sensitiveness of the House in 
regard to everything involving an ex- 
penditure of money. The House know- 
ing that a hundred dollars is needed for 
a certain purpose, appropriates ninety- 
nine, and sends the bill to the Senate. 
The Senate adds the needed dollar. The 
House disagrees. The Senate "insists. " 
They have a "conference." The House 
"recedes from its disagreement" — as it 
intended to all the while. Then the 
House calls the country to witness that 
it is finally compelled to submit to add- 
ing the extra dollar, and denounces the 
Senate for its extravagance. 

This is, in brief, a history of all legis- 
lative "conferences" between the two 
houses, upon money appropriations. It 
is safe to say that for the last twenty 
years the Senate has carried, in "confer- 
ence," three of every four amendments 
previously "insisted" upon in open Sen- 
ate. As a whole, the Senate is composed 
of much abler men than the lower branch 
of Congress. Generally, they are men 
who have had many years experience in 
the House. They must, of necessity, 
know more concerning the needs of the 
government. They are elected for an 
official term of six years. They are less 
under the necessity of trimming and 
hedging to secure a re-election. They 
can afford to wait longer than a member 
of the House for the "vindication" of 
their motives which it is said time will 

surely bring. They can better afford to 
consider, ev°ry public measure upon its 
merits, rather than its immediate conse- 
quences upon their personal ambitions. 
These, and many other reasons equally 
Dotent. make it possible for a Senator to 
exercise a more careful judgment, and a 
more intelligent comprehension of meas- 
ures that must receive his consider ation. 
The ever changing character of the 
House, its great number of new mem- 
bers, and the time required to become at 
all familiar with the complicated machin- 
ery of legislation, consumes its time, arid 
limits its usefulness as a legislative body. 
The Senate with one fourth the mem- 
bership, and three times the term of ser- 
vice, can give to all important matters 
much more attention than it is possible 
for them to receive in the House. Hence 
of the thousands of bills rushed through 
the latter, generally less than half secure 
the approval of the Senate. The balance 
remain in the Senatorial pigeon-boles, 
wherein slumber many thousands of 
schemes originally designed to extract 
"very hard cash" from the coffers of our 
beloved Uncle Samuel. 

In the matter of giving or withholding 
its approval of measures referred :o it, 
the Senate has to bear more than its just- 
share of the burden, for the House will 
frequently pass bills that it kytzic* the 
Senate will kill— and which the House 
really desires it should kill. I: onlv 
wishes to shift the responsibility of the 
execution to the other end of the Capitol. 
The lobbyist says "I can get toot little 
bill through the House well enocrh. but, 
gentlemen, there's the Senate." This is 
particularly true of bills involving small 
money appropriations, and bills of a pri- 
vate nature. The big railroad schemes 
and steamship subsidies are as vigorous- 
ly advocated and opposed, and as thor- 
oughly discussed in the House as in the 
Senate; but of the smaller matters, many 
a member votes against his better judg- 
ment for a bill to please some irtf uential 
constituent, knowing all the time that it 
can never pass the Senate. In the House, 
very important measures are sometimes 
passed under a suspension of the Rules — 
a two-thirds vote being required for that 



purpose. In the Senate this is rarely 
« T uie. The usual course, is to refer every 
bill to the appropriate committee and 
await the Committee's action as reported 
by their chairman. If not reported in 
the usual manner the bill may be regard- 
ed as dead, unless the committee are di- 
rected to consider the subject by special 
vote of the Senate. When onee reported 
favorably, without amendment, and 
placed upon the "calendar" its passage 
is a foregone conclusion. It is only a 
question of time, regulated, generally, 
by its numerical order upon the calendar. 
By common consent, whenever any bill 
or resolution, has been favorably report- 
ed from committee, the report adopted, 
and the bill or resolution placed upon 
the calendar, its final passage is conced- 
ed, and the yeas and nays are never 
called except upon important bills, or 
upon such measures as it is desired to 
make a "record." A knowledge of this 
simple fact will explain to the amazed 
spectator who for the first time visits the. 
Senate galleries, the apparent indiffer- 
ence of three or four score Senators to 
what is passing before them. The pre- 
siding officer will put through, perhaps, 
thirty or forty bills of greater or less im- 
portance, in as many minutes, calling 
for the ayes and noes, verbally, in the 
usual way, declare the bills passed, one 
after another, and all the while not a 
Senator responds for or against. This 
method of passing bills is called ''by 
unanimous consent," which presupposes 
every vote in favor of a bill, and is so re- 
corded unless open objection is made. It 
does not indicate, as would seem to the 
casual observer, a sublime indifference 
of Senators to important legislation, but 
is only an expeditious method of passing 
measures that have been carefully con- 
sidered and agreed upon. The adoption 
of this method, practically unknown in 
the House, except during the closing 
hours of a session, enables the Senate to 
gain time, both in the consideration and 
final passage of bills. It also enables the 
enrolling clerks of the House to ''antici- 
pate" some of their work, and to enroll 
a large number of bills in advance. A 
given number of bills having passed the 

House, and having been reported favora- 
bly to the Senate and r.laeed upon the 
calendar without amendment, their final 
passage in exactly the same form as re- 
ported, is only a question of time. Con- 
sequently, the House enrolling clerks 
can enroll the bills, leaving the date of 
the passage blank, and thus do much 
work that would otherwise fail for want 
of time. No bill— even if passed without 
opposition by both houses of Congress — 
can become a law, unless it is enrolled 
upon parchment and presented to and 
signed by the President of the United 
States before the bout* fixed for final ad- 
journment. The Senate and House 
might pass a thousand bills in good faith 
and every one of them fail to become 
laws if sufficient time was not given to 
enroll them. Owing to the indecent 
haste with which all kinds of bills are 
crowded through Congress during the 
closing hours of the session, many bills 
fail for this reason, aud the number 
would be largely increased were it not 
for the "probabilities" indicated by the 
Senate Calendar which enables the en- 
rolling clerks to "take time by the 

The Senate has numerous other advan- 
tages over the House which enables it to 
transact business more rapidly, or rather 
to give more time to the consideration of 
important matters. It has less members. 
Much less tiaie is consumed in calling 
the yeas and nays. The immense amount 
of work required to prepare the great 
appropriation bills, is all done by the 
House. The Senate has only to revise 
and amend. If the House Committee on 
Appropriations does its work well, — the 
Senate has but little to do comparatively. 

Ordinarily, the Post-Office, Pension 
and Indian appropriation bills pass the 
Senate with few amendments. The Mil- 
itary Academy, Navy, the consular aud 
diplomatic, the River and Harbor, aud 
the fortification bills, will be considera- 
bly amended. The Delicienc}' bills pass 
substantially as reported, while the "tug 
of war" comes on the Legislative, the 
Sundry Civil, and the Army. The Sun- 
dry Civil, is known as the "Omnibus" 
bill, as, like the vehicle from which it 



derive? its name, there is always "room 
for one .^^:e"— appropriation. On th^ 
"Omnibus" bill, if anywhere, the watch- 
ful lobbyist, is able to get his little 
amendment tacked on, and trusts to the 
chances of the hurry and confusion of 
final adjournment, to put it through.. 
Failing in this, all his hopes are blighted. 

In the House there is never a session 
to which the public is not admitted. 
Even during a "call of the House'' when 
the doors are locked and members can 
get in only under the escort of the Ser- 
geant-at-Arms, or his deputies, the pub- 
lic are admitted as usual to all the galler- 
ies. In the Senate, the "Executive Ses- 
sion'' bars out everybody but Senators 
and a few officials sworn to secrecy. 
Here, at least, no prying reporter can 
penetrate, and only by skillful cross- 
questioning of Senators, or in some in- 
stances by downright bribery of suscep- 
tible officials, can the proceedings in 
"executive session" be ascertained. Nev- 
ertheless State secrets do leak out in 
spite of all precautions, and generally 
the statements elicited are so distorted, 
that it may fairly be questioned whether 
it might not be advantageous to entirely 
remove the ban of secrecy in the highest 
legislative body of a Republic. 

The writer is not among that numer- 
ous class of people who believes that the 
Senate of the present decade has been an 
essentially weak body of men, and that 
all senatorial capacity, intelligence, and 
dignity was confined to the times of the 
famous triumvirate. Clay. Webster and 
Calhoun. Washington "society" abounds 
In "seedy" croakers of the ancient 
regime who sigh— between drinks— for 
the "good old times," and lament the 

present "degeneracy" of Congress in gen- 
eral., aud the Senate in particular. Such 
men never realize the fact that they are 
merely the sunken rocks whose only use 
is to measure the depth of the wave of 
progress that has rolled over them. The 
Clays, Websters, Calhouns, Napoleons 
and Bismarcks, are the kind of men who 
flourish once in a century. They impress 
their characteristics upon the statesman- 
ship of a century. In all the common 
practical details of every-day legislation, 
many men of less pretensions, unknown 
to fame, are infinitely their superiors. 
Fancy Daniel Webster in "conference" 
on the. Legislative bill, wrangling over a 
coal-heaver's salary, or a doorkeeper's 
wages ! or Henry Clay fixing up a post- 
route bill providing for a tri-weekly 
mail from Pumpkinville Post Office to 
Grasshopper Gulch! And yet all such 
legislation is just as necessary as Web- 
ster's reply to Hayne. or his letter to the 
Austrian Minister. Indeed, it is abso- 
lutely indispensable. As the country 
grows larger, as it extends its vast net- 
work of railroads, canals, and telegraphs ; 
as it increases its capacity for produc- 
tion, and consequently its need for a bet- 
ter market ; as its foreign and domestic 
commerce expands or contracts in ac- 
cordance with the laws of trade, all 
these problems of tariff, revenue, inter- 
nal improvements, transportation and 
navigation, must of necessity claim the 
legislator's most careful attention. On 
their successful solution depends the 
wealth and material prosperity of the 
country. To solve them needs clear- 
headed, intelligent, practical, common- 
sense men. and of such I believe the 
American Senate to be mainly composed. 





Like warp and woof our destinies 

Are woven fast, 
Linked in sympathy like the keys 

Of an organ vast. 

— Whittier. 

A June morning unfolded its glories to 
the susceptible nature of Will Austin at a 
bright New England village on the banks 
of the lordly Connecticut. The lonely 
beauty and the wild, romantic surround- 
ings of the locality at once won his po- 
etic heart; and having no spot particu- 
larly endeared to him by the fond ties 
which cluster around the place we call 
home, he resolved to tarry here until ful- 
ly persuaded in mind what course in life 
to pursue; or where, and in what man- 
ner, to begin his life work. 

Being of a joyous disposition, and so- 
cial withal, my friend had soon made 
many acquaintances among the first fam- 
ilies of the village, and found himself a 
welcome guest, wherever chance or fancy 
found him, at the homes of the villagers. 

Among his new-found friends, one of 
the first was the merchant of the place, 
a jovial, whole-souled sort of a man 
generally, and who prided himself mostly 
upon being the wealthy man of the town ; 
and in fact it was so; which fact, too, he 
seemed not too modest to magnify. His 
home was a picture enjoyment ; beauti- 
ful in its choice surroundings, showing 
no lack of taste and judgment in its ar- 
rangements, being really what it was 
often termed, a " paradise of beauty and 
comfort. 1 ' 

"Within the well-ordered store of the 
merchant Will often found himself in 
pleasant chat with the good-natured pro- 
prietor, upon subjects of mutual interest ; 
and as the days passed away and the 
busy season of trade was ushered in, 
his aid was invoked, sometimes at the 
desk, at others behind the counter at the 
service of customers, and ere long his 

services became apparently indispen- 
sible; accordingly he was duly installed 
•merchant's assistant, and became, like- 
wise, a member of the merchant's fam- 
ily, consisting heretofore of the store- 
keeper, his amiable wife and lovely 
daughter Ellen, an only child, just sap- 
ping beyond eighteen, and rich in all the 
charms of young and innocent woman- 
hood. Shall I tell you of her as I after- 
wards knew her? 

She was indeed a winsome girl, the im- 
personation of loveliness, and with a 
heart as light as her footstep. Her life 
had never known a cloud, and her dark 
and radiant eyes shone with the light of 
pure and hopeful girlhood. Her soul, 
which gleamed from out those blue 
depths, was an ocean of purity aud love. 
She had grown to these years with all 
the beautiful and attractive adornments 
of a good, true woman's heart: not 
frozen to ice by worldliness, or by con- 
trast with the coldness of so-called fash- 
ionable society and its false motives. 
Her personal charms I cannot well de- 
scribe, but her (face was an attraction, 
fair and fresh, and joyous as a June morn- 
ing; her voice was a musical echo: she 
loved the bright flowers, those wild chil- 
dren of Eden, growing in sunny nooks; 
she loved the mountains and the forest. 
and the wind among the trees; the bab- 
bling of the brooks and wild dashings of 
the river; she loved the silent stars and 
the golden glow of sunset; and she 
adored Will Austin, too, with all the fer- 
vor of a true woman's love. 

And do you wonder that he worshipped 
her in return? You might search the 
country through and you would never 
find one so universally beloved. She was 
the village pet, and we all know T .vhat 
that means. Gray hairs and children, 
middle age and youth, all were happy 



from her words of cheer, and joyous in 
the smiles of her ruby lips; for such 
miiies! they wereMfce the blessiaga &$ 
angels. But I am dwelling- too long 
upon her loveliness, and you sneer— at 
what? The picture I have given you of 
her love or her beauty? Well. doubt it if 
you will. You did not know her. There 
is such love in the world, and such ex- 
cellence, and such beauty, too. Y'ou 
may not have seen it. 

A twelvemonth came and went, as all 
years have, and will, and naught seemed 
to occur to disturb the quiet river of the 
lives of the young lovers. But now a 
change came over the spirit of their 
41 love's young dream," the nature of 
which we already know; and it appeared 
in this wise. 

An undeserving scion of a gold-bearing 
stock, a stern, cold-hearted man of the 

orld, who knew no love but the love of 
wealth, and possessed in his soul no mu- 
sic but the click of gold, a business 
friend of the merchant Burton, was in- 
troduced to the family and cast a shadow 
into the quiet home; and that shadow 

He was wealthy, as the world counts 
riches, in stocks and lauds, and the gold 
that glitters ; but ot the wealth that en- 
riches the heart, builds up the divine man- 
hood, and makes the world brighter and 
better, he was sadly barren. There was 
in his nature no sunny spot where could 
grow and blossom bright flowers to scat- 
ter in bouquets of love and charity along 
the pathway of life. But I will not de- 
scribe him. We all know such, and 
meet them in our daily walks and feel the 
icy chill of their presence. 

Did you ask me if he was welcomed at 
the Burton mansion? By the father he 
was; and Ellen, who loved her parents 
with all the love of a fond and dutiful 
heart, accorded to him that respect and 
attention due her father's guest. But it 
was not until a recurrence of his visits 
again and yet again, that his true inten- 
tions were manifest to the mind of the 
innocent girl ; and when next he came, 
for come he did, ostentatiously apparelled 
and outfitted, Ellen was not at home.and 
diligent inquiry failed to find her. A 

messenger was sent throughout the vil- 
lage, but no one had seen her, and when 
hour after hour had passed arid she re- 
turned not, the wooer reluctantly relin- 
quished the purpose of his coming; and 
the early-rising moon of that evening saw 
the aristocratic carriage of the heir of 
the house of Ross, disappearing south- 
ward along the valley. 

A week later saw its return, and this 
time unannounced ; but the bird had 
flown again, and no one knew whiuher. 
Shall I tell you a secret? I will, since it 
is difficult to keep, and I am not sure but 
it has been told, for this was years ago ; 
more, indeed, than I care to remember, 
so fast do they come and go. 

The winds knew of her hasty flight ; 
the birds welcomed her to their shadowy 
retreats ; and the wild mountain stream 
that went laughing adown the glen and 
among the rocks, bearing no impress 
where those dainty feet had trod, told 
not the secret of her flight and hiding- 
place. I think Will knew, however, al- 
though he never told me so ; but he did 
tell me how, very soon after the disap- 
pointed visitant had bidden his perplexed 
host " good night." and said adieu to the 
genial hostess, a light glimmered sud- 
denly out. like a guiding star, from the 
west window of the old garret, facing 
toward the mountain and the glen, and 
half au hour afterwards came "Black 
Ben '' from up the ravine, followed by a 
rustling among the shadows, as of the 
evening wind among the bushes. And I 
think, too. the moon was in the secret. 
for as Will and 4 * the rustling" met at 
the pasture gate, she came smilingly 
from behind the hill, beaming with joy 
at the meeting; but then, she always 
laughs at those glad scenes. 

But I am wearying you with details. 
I must hasten to tell you how the next 
day brought around an interview be- 
tween the father and daughter, at which 
he told her his wishes, that she should 
encourage the attentions of " Walter 
Ross " with a view of becoming his wife. 
He looked upon it as a very desirabk 
match, as, in addition to his actual pos 
sessions, which were ample,' he was tne 
prospective heir to a large estate often- 



anted lards, and much well-paying bank 
stock. Re was a man of fine personal 
appearance, f;drlv intetUeefeu&l* a;ul quite 
moral, as the world goes. To be sure he 
was somewhat wild and given to excess, 
but all this he would outwear with years 
of experience and the counter charms of 
wedded life; and then he was of a very 
aristocratic progeniture, being in direct 
line of descent from Geo. Ross, a signer 
of the Declaration of Independence, and 
a distinguished member of the Conti- 
nental Congress. 

Now we must not judge from this that 
the father of Ellen Burton was alto- 
gether a mean and selfish man ; there 
were in his nature many warm and sunny 
spots, and, as I have said, he loved his 
only child with all the loudness of a de- 
voted parent, and in urging the suit of 
this petitioner for the hand of his daugh- 
ter, he was not at all unmindful of her fu- 
ture happiness ; but he. like many anoth- 
er that you know, fancied that the 
amount or degree of earthly bliss de- 
pended upon the extent of earthly pos- 
sessions, and standing in what the world 
is pleased to term society. He was 
wealthy, and consequently, he thought, 
happy; hence his conclusions; so we 
need not wonder that when Ellen de- 
clined to accept his views or comply with 
his wishes, telling him she could not give 
her hand where her heart could never go, 
he was overcome with a mi igling of 
grief and offended authority; and when 
later she ventured to tell him of her deep 
love for Will Austin, and that she pre- 
ferred the wealth ot his heart and noble 
manhood to the boasted opulence and 
sumptuous surroundings of this stranger. 
he waxed ireful, the cloud of his anger 
gathering fury, until an hour later, it 
burst woefully upon the head of the in- 
nocent lover. 

You know already with what effect. 
We heard it as we stood in the starlight 
of that evening, as the shadows gathered 
in the park; and we heard it again from 
the lips of my friend as we sauntered 
along that valley road until the night 
grew old and the stars disappeared in 
the flush of the morning's dawn. 

I left him that morning, his soul op- 

pressed with sad thoughts at the pros- 
pect of parting with her he loved with a 
pi re ind holy ftifeefefattj ;wsd who he be- 
lieved worshipped him as divinely. 

u She will be true to me, I know," he 
said, in one of his moments of rapture. 
" The heart of the father, too, will yet 
relent, and I will come back in time, and 

then: " 

Here his voice was checked with emo- 
tion, and pressing my hand passionately, 
we parted. 

He left, next day, for Europe, and I 
heard from him casually as he flitted 
here and there. First a greeting from 
Switzerland ; then a line from that " City 
in the Sea," throned on her hundred 
isles : w ' I stood in Venice on the Bridge 
of Sighs; a palace and a prison on either 
hand." A few weeks later another, in 
Will's peculiar hand and style; " At the 
' Arch of Titus,' gray with centuries, and 
away through the deep blue skies of 
Rome I waft a message to thee." Then 
again, after a time : " Dreaming of home 
in this Sabbath evening twilight, from • 
Thebes of a hundred gates — travel- 
stained with dust that throbbed with life 
four thousand years ago; wandering 
above the ruins of ancient temples, 
while the night sweeps down loaded with 
glory; gazing upon the stony face of 
' Memnon,' gloomy with ages forgotten, 
while the shadows steal across the plain 
and over the time-hallowed graves and city 
of Pharaohs. In the misty silence of the 
halls of Karnak, among wiiose gloomy 
ruins the dun fox and the wild h} r ena 
call, and owls and Hitting bats startle the 
echoes and fill the imagination with vis- 
ions of uncanny spirits and ghosts of 
long-mummied Egyptians." 

A month later and he was at Jerusa- 
lem, the holy city, realizing thus the 
cherished dreams of his boyhood : ;; Ly- 
ing in the starlight of Olivet.gazing with 
tear-dimmed eyes above the hills of 
Judea; breathing inspirations of glory 
from above the ' Mount of Ascension,' 
made sacred in the eyes and faith of mil- 
lions by the footsteps of the * Son of 
Mary'; following in imagination the ca- 
reer of those strange but brave men. those 
zealous followers of the humble Xaza- 


rene, who came from afar to lav down 
their lives, and thereby expiate their sins 
in endeavorhtg bo wres* the vpulclu'r 
from unholy hands ; from the possession 
of the li Camel driver of Mecca." 

But I am getting along slowly with 
my memories. I must hasten to tell you. 
This was the last I heard from the wan- 
derer, and when weeks lengthened into 
months and no tidings came of him. I 
could but conclude he had. in some of 
his lonely ramblings, fallen a victim to 
Bedouin rapacity, and thought his pil- 
grimage ended in that sunny lauti. 

I saw Ellen Burton but twice during 
all this time, and once was to convey a 
message from her noble lover. It was 
indeed painful to mark the change these 
months had wrought. She was no longer 
the happy, light-hearted girl of former 
times. The bloom of health had faded 
from those rosy cheeks, and brightness 
from her eye. Her step was no longer 
elastic, but lingering, and her friends 
saw her less frequently among them ; 
and it began to be whispered that she 
was going by the dark road. Few knew 
wherefore she pined and faded, but she 
was dying, the doctor said, and he should 
know, for he was their old family physi- 
cian, and was skilled and wise. The fa- 
ther knew whereof she was dying, and 
he sighed as the great waves of his ago- 
ny rolled over his soul. Also he would 
give all of his possessions to be able to 
turn back the events of past months, or 
stem the consequences of that tide of 
circumstances; but he knew he could 
not, and that is why the iron frame shook 
with suppressed grief. 

It was in October; a golden day near 
its close; one of those brightest of In 
dian Summer days, when the whole 
world is as radiant as a gleam of Heaven. 
I had been all day revelling amid the 
scenes of summer-garnered sunshine 
glories; riding over the bills toward the 
valley whereof you know. 

A message came for me, and I knew 
instantly whence it came, and whereof, 
and I went immediately to the home of 
the Burtons, for I knew I was called to 
the bedside of the dying girl. I hardly 
waited to be announced, and waving cer- 

emony, passed quietly, following the 
servant, to the sick room. 

M any eyes were red with weeping ; 
the members of the family were stand- 
ing around the bed, and the old doctor 
scattering his words of comfort. There 
were circles of sad-eyed friends about 
the room, watching that young spirit 
pluming itself for heavenly flight. I 
was motioned to the bedside, and taking 
gently in mine the withered hand of the 
pale form, I stooped to catch in broken 
whispers : — 

"Tell Will, if you ever meet him, I 
will remember our tryst. 1 ' 

This was all; and closing again those 
dimmed eyes she seemed quietly sleep- 

A window was opened toward the 
river, and once, when the breeze came 
in, bearing with it a murmur of waters 
and a sighing of the wind among the 
old pines near the house, a smile lighted 
up her calm face, and the lips moved, 
and we knew the listening soul was 
charmed into lingering by the familiar 
melody ; but again the eyelids drooped 
and the sunny eye was closed, but the 
lips still smiled sweetly as if pressed by 
the kisses of angels; and the angels 
w r ere glad, for they were again welcom- 
ing to their number a loved one so long 
a wanderer from her native heaven. 

I was standing near the door opening 
into the broad hail, and gazing listlessly 
out upon the hillside, now tinged with 
the last rays of the setting sun. The 
shadows up the glen were growing deep- 
er and more gloomy; the brooklet 
laughed not, but tinkled sorrowfully; 
the winds up among the pines and the 
old rocks whispered mournfully, for 
they were lisping to each other the sad 

The servant announced a stranger, and 
at the instant, unceremoniously but qui- 
etly, a dark form glided past, and I 
looked to see, kneeling at the couch of 
the silent sleeper, one whom I did not at 
iirst recognize. The nerveless hand was 
held cairessingly in his, and the pale 
lips erewhile so lifeless, were pressed 
with the warm kisses of love. There 
were no 1 words around that wondering 



group, but many tears and loud beating 
hearts. I stepped forward as the lips 
Parted; and u dear Will,'''' was whimpered 
almost inaudibly; nothing more. 

I deemed it best to retire and leave the 
frail flower to those who loved her best, 
and to whom she was dearest, and only 
pressing the hand of my friend, travel- 
worn and almost overcome with this sud- 
den grief, (he had been told of Ellen's 
death before reaching the village) I 
-went out and over to my room at the ho- 

The dim-lighted windows, and shadows 
moving silently about in the mansion 
across the river, disturbed my sleep un- 
til long after the noon of night had stud- 
ded the sky with starry watchers. 

I only heard next day that the weary 
soul still tarried among friends on this 
side; and receiving a promise from Will 
that he would inform me when the 
change came, I left the place and friends, 
hoping against feeble hope. 

A telegram reached me a week later, 
only saying: " She is still with us, and 
doc*®* says sba i- Ivtt<'«r." 

But why need I trouble you longer 
with details? The sequel is soon told in 
an extract received from my friend some 
months after I left them as above, in 
which he says : 

" You must be sure and come ; the cir- 
cle will be incomplete without yon. We 
shall have a quiet wedding, but it will 
be a happy one. E. says, as you have 
been a sharer in our sorrows, so should 
you witness our highest joy. We are to 
have the old homestead on the river, and 
it is a sunny home since the light of it 
has returned to us. Poor, dear girl, how 
she must have suffered during those long 
months of loneliness. But it is all past, 
and the sun shines brightly where erst 
but cloud shadows spread. Be sure and 
come, and we will have a ' Merry Christ- 
mas,' indeed." 

And I was there. 



Read before the Annual Meeting of the New 

"In Memory of Richard Potter, the 
Celebrated Ventriloquist, who died Sept. 
20. 1S35. aged 52 years." 

Such is the legend on the stone that 
marks the resting-place of a very re- 
markable man. To the generation now 
passing and nearly passed away, no man 
in New England was better known, prob- 
ably, than he. From Quebec to New 
Orleans there was scarcely a man. woman 
or child that had not beheld with vacant 
wonder his marvelous tricks, or laughed 
themselves weak at his endless ventrilo- 
quial imitations and inimitable drollery. 

How he would compare for skill with 
men of his own craft in our day it would 
be impossible to determine. Professors 
of his art were by no means so common 
in the days of our fathers as now. The 
chemistry of the atmosphere, of liquids 
and heat was less generally understood. 
The principles of electricity and magne- 

Hampshire Antiquarian Society, July 16, 1878. 
tism were scarcely understood at all. 
Tricks with these, which would have 
been incredible except on demonstration, 
are now familiar to every school-boy. 
In Potter's day the notion of magic and 
the possession of occult powers, was by 
no means eradicated from the popular 
mind. Whether he was greater or less 
than Signor Blitz, the Fakir of Ava, 
Jonathan Harrington and '* the Great 
Hermann, " it would be only a matter of 
speculation to enquire. Probably the 
latter; as all arts tend to elimination of 
the crude and the perfection of their 

But, if all that has been reported of 
Potter is true, he must have possessed 
powers not only marvelous, but su- 
pernatural. He could handle and 
swallow melted lead. He could go into 
a heated oven, with a joint of raw meat, 
and remain Jn the oven lM\ .the meat was 


eooked. He could dance on eggs and 
- I break them. He could cause a tur- 
key-cock to draw a mill-log across the 
pi it form. He could cause any lady in 
the .'itulience to find a peeping chicken in 
!.. r pocket ; or gentleman a " bumblebee"' 
imprisoned in the handkerchief in the 
tup of his hat, without himself leaving 
the stage or their leaving their seats. 
All these and other feats equally impos- 
sible, the writer has heard related of 
Potter, by persons who declared they 
bad seen him do them. 

Of the nationality of Richard Potter 
various statements have been made, 
widely circulated and believed, and noth- 
ing certain is known. Of any part of 
bis early history no more than probabili- 
ties can be reached, by piecing together 
parts of various stories, of which he ap- 
pears to have been the author. 

lie was commonly called ••Black Pot- 
ter," aud had the appearance of a mulat- 
to. The story was currently reported; 
in the vicinity of his own home in Aii- 
dover, that he was the son of a negro 
woman in Boston, and that Benjamin 
Franklin was his father. That the moth- 
er was a servant in a Boston family, and 
that, after the birth of the child. Frank- 
lin furnished her a home in aback street 
behind the State House, where Potter 
lived till he was ten years of age. Ste- 
phen Fellows of Grafton, who was Pot- 
ter's assistant during the last years of his 
travels, and. with Potter's son, succeed- 
ed to the business, and who now possess- 
es all of the great magician's kit there i3 
in existence, assured the writer that Pot- 
ter told him this storj^ in confidence. It 
I* entirely probable; and that Potter 
told it in one of his fits of humor, to par- 
ry enquiries as to his early life, concern- 
ing which he appears to have been al- 
ways reticent. Nevertheless, the story 
hecatne current, and was confidently be- 
hoved by many who ought to have 
known better. 

The folly of the assertion is seen in the 
fact that Franklin was not in x\merica 
after November or December 1776. till 
1<85; and was not probably in Boston 
fa ft<'r his departure to England, in 1764, 
""til after the latter date; while Rich- 

ard Potter, if the date and age on bis 
tomb-stone are correct, was born in 17S3, 
at which lif&e Franklin was 77 yeatfs oM, 

Potter told Fellows that he was at ten 
years of age. picked up by a ship-captain., 
and carried as a cabin boy to London. 
Being there turned adrift upon the city, 
he fell in with a travelling circus, with 
which, in the capacity of a servant boy. 
he remained four or five 3'ears, visiting 
all the large towns and cities of England ; 
that the circus then came to America. 
and was the first that ever exhibited la 
the United States ; then he returned to 
America with the company, being then 
past fifteen years of age, and continued 
in that service two or three years, dur- 
ing which time he acquired from his em- 
ployers and associates the knowledge 
and practice of the art he afterwards pur- 
sued ; and that, when about eighteen 
years old, he left the circus and set up 
business for himself as a magician aud 

There was, however, an opinion widely 
prevalent, within the territory of bis 
most freqent exhibitions, that Potter was 
a native of the East Indies. It was con- 
fidently affirmed, by many persons who 
professed to be acquainted with him, 
that he had himself so reported. And 
that he had so stated is rendered proba- 
ble, by the currency of this story among 
those who had witnessed his perform- 
ances, and held desultory conversation 
with him before tavern fires, in places 
widely remote from each other. The 
writer has heard it repeated, with varia- 
tions, but with a general agreemen: of 
points, in Maine, Xew Hampshire. Ver- 
mont. Massachusetts and Xew York. 

Among his townsmen in Andover, the 
general understanding seems to have 
been that he was a native of one of the 
West India islands. But his complex: an 
and physiognomy it was said, by those 
whose acquaintance with both races en- 
abled them to judge, indicated the pres- 
ence of Asiatic rather than of African 
blood. And among many, who had uev- 
er heard of the Franklin story, thoagh 
living in sections far apart, it was rlraily 
believed that he was the son of an Eug- 
lishman by a Hindu mother. This was 



the version which, iu northern Vermont. 
the writer as a boy always heard and 
never questioned. But it was, undefebt? 
edly, false. 

Nevertheless, in both versions of the 
origin aud early life of "the celebrated 
ventriloquist," there are some points of 
agreement, that not only point toward a 
common authorship, but give rise to the 
suspicion that, with whatever of ro- 
mance there may be in either, there may 
be also some grains of truth. And this 
supposition receives some encourage- 
ment from certain corroborative circum- 
stances, known to be historic. 

Whether Potter ever told the Franklin 
story to anyone beside Stephen Fellows, 
does not appear. But even if he did not. 
it is no matter of surprise that it should 
obtain a considerable circulation. For 
Fellows, as his assistant, supposed to be 
conversant with his affairs, would be the 
party most easy of access, aud most like- 
ly to be questioned, in all places where 
they exhibited, concerning his employ- 
er's origin and history. Aud that Potter 
had given him a true history. Fellows 
seems never for a moment to have 

But in both the Franklin and the Hin- 
du versiou are certain points of identity. 
In both he is the son of a white father 
and of a colored mother. By the be- 
lievers in each it was understood that he 
was not born in wedlock. By both it 
was said he was picked up by a ship-cap- 
tain — the oue said in the streets of Bos- 
ton, the other in the streets of Calcutta — 
and carrried to London. Both agreed 
that he there drifted about, without care 
or guardianship, until he came to Amer- 
ica under twenty years of age. Both un- 
derstood that he first landed in this 
country in Boston. Both had heard that 
he learned his tricks of hand and voice in 
boyhood, aud in foreign parts. And, by 
those who believed in his Hindu origin, 
the assumption was natural that, being 
quick and bright, he had acquired them 
in his native country from the Hindu 

In 1872, Moses B. Goodwin; Esq.. for- 
merly a correspondent of the National 
Intelligencer at ^\'ashington, was editor 

of the Merrimack (X. H.) Journal. In 
issue of Xov. 8, of that year, he gave an 
account of an interview, which took 
place in 1848, between Joseph T. Buck- 
ingham, editor of the Boston Evening 
Courier, and the Hon. Geo. \Y~. Nesmith 
of Franklin. At that time the Northern 
(X. H.) Railroad had just opened to trav- 
el. The two gentlemen above named 
were journeying together from Franklin 
toward the northern terminus of the 
road, engaged in conversation. When 
the train reached the Potter Place, aud 
the name of the station was announced 
by the conductor, Mr. Buckingham en- 
quired for whom the station was named, 
and on being informed that it was for- 
merly the abode of the great magician, 
he proceeded to state the circumstances 
of his first acquaintance, and subsequent 
business and friendly relations, with that 

Mr. Buckingham said that when he 
had finished his apprenticeship in the of- 
fice of the Greenfield (Mass.) Gazette, he 
went to Boston and set up business as a 
job printer. That he boarded at an old 
and well-known tavern called The Bite, 
kept by one Bradley, near Market 
Square. That one day a small-sized, 
sharp-eyed, dark-complexioned young 
man sat down with him to dinner. That 
after the meal was finished, this young 
man enquired of Bradley for a suitable 
man to do some printing. That Bradley 
thereupon introduced him to Mr. Buck- 
ingham. The small-sized, sharp-eyed, 
dark-complexioned man was Richard 

Between the two there soou sprung up 
relations of confidence, respect and 
friendship; and Mr. Buckingham be- 
lieved that, when exhibiting in this 
country, and within such distance of 
Boston as to render it possible for him 
to do so, Potter from that day forth to 
the end of his life, gave him all his pat- 
ronage in printing. He stated that Pot- 
ter had paid him thousands of dollars ; 
that he always paid promptly and dealt 
honorably ; and that, in his long career 
as a printer, only two other men had 
ever given him more encouragement or 
pecuniary aid. 



Mr. Buckingham spoke with ranch 
• £ of the "Genial Showman." and 
• tentte* reeffree* tor hi> memory;"" 
dwelt at length on the details of his long 
...J intimate acquaintance with him; 
g£ii cl«'Clarcd him to be one of the noblest 
aad most generous men he had ever 

Nov.* Buckingham left the office of the 
tlutnjield Gazette and went to Boston in 
1 tOO. He had but recently established 
himself there when he was introduced to 
Potter. The fact that Potter enquired 
< { Bradley for a printer, coupled with 
the generally-understood fact that the re- 
nowned magician commenced his career 
in Boston, would indicate that he was 
just starting in business for himself, and 
had had no printing done before. This 
might have beeu in 1S00, and was not 
probably later than 1801. In 1800, Pot- 
ior was seventeen years old. 

In the story told to Fellows he said 
that he left the employ of the circus and 
started business when about eighteen 
years of age, which would exactly coin- 
cide with the time at which he was hav- 
ing his lirst printing done in Boston. 
Thia would tend to enhance the proba- 
bility that the story was not all fiction, 
and that he learned his art from some 
company of mountebanks with which he 
was associated, when a boy. 

From that time forward there is no 
trace nor tradition of Richard Potter, 
connected with any fixed date or loca- 
tion, that I have been able to discover, 
fur the next twenty years. An examina- 
tion of files of newspapers, published in 
Boston, and various other towns and 
cities of the Eastern and Middle States, 
would doubtless throw some light on his 
history during that period. But such 
examination 1 have not been able to 

His headquarters. and whatever 'home'' 
«e had, are supposed to have been in 
Boston, It is certain, however, that he 
travelled widely, and had become known 
»nd famous, previous to 1S20. It is cer- 
tain that he had, within that time visited 
Europe, for he was for a time with Na- 
poleon; though not as a soldier. It is 
certain that he had married and that his 

two children were born before the latter 
date. It is certain that his wife travelled 
p.ud performed with him. until she be- 
came unfitted to do so, from habits of 

But with what particular successes or 
adventures he met; how extensively he 
circulated, what countries he visited: 
when, where and whom he married, or 
where his children were born, the writer 
knoweth not. 

In the winter of 1S75, at my suggestion 
and request, and in order to procure for 
me the information I desired, Moses B. 
Goodwin, Esq., above named, visited An- 
dover (N. H.), where Potter spent the 
last fifteen years of his life, and made 
minute enquiries of the old residents of 
the place, who had been acquainted with 
him and his family. 

From a near neighbor to Potter, dur- 
ing his residence in Andover, whose son 
was, at one time, Potter's travelling as- 
sistant and partner in the business; from 
Hon. Geo. W. Xesmith ojf Franklin, who 
was acquainted with Potter's affairs ; and 
from Mrs. Isabella West, an aged and in- 
telligent lady of Frauklin. whose hus- 
band in Potter's day, kept a tavern in 
.Boscawen, at which Potter and his wife 
were frequent guests, Mr. Goodwin ob- 
tained much reliable intelligence con- 
cerning the great magiciau. From his 
subsequent letters, and from his article 
in the Merrimack Journal above referred 
to, a large part of the facts of this his- 
tory were obtained; for which the writer 
hereby expresses his grateful acknowl- 

About 1820 Potter purchased a farm of 
about 175 acres in that part of Andover 
which now bears his name. On this he 
erected a residence 22x38 feet, fronting 
on the'turnpike, the whole second story 
of which was one room ; the lower story 
being divided by a hall running through 
the house. This he finished a nd furnished 
with elegant display, regardless of the 
cost; and, it was said, with taste and 
judgment. He was generous to a fault, 
kept open house, and dispensed a liberal 
hospitality. In another house, entire- 
ly separate from the mansion, was 
done all the cooking and housework. 



located all the servants" offices, after the 
manner of the South, and there, also, 
were all the sleeping-rooms. 

Mr. Potter carried on extensive farm- 
ing operations, raised excellent crops, 
and cultivated choice breeds of cattle, 
horses and swine; raising great numbers 
of the latter. The grounds about his 
house were tastefully laid out. well kept, 
and ornamented with a great variety and 
profusion of shrubs and flowers, of which 
both he and his wife were passionately 

Both of them affected considerable dis- 
play in dress, selecting rare and costly 
materials of foreign make, distinguished 
for rich and brilliant colors. In this each 
followed the characteristics of the peo- 
ple from which they sprung. 

Stephen Fellows assured me that Pot- 
ter told him that Mrs. Potter was a full- 
blooded Penobscot-Indian squaw. If he 
did it was but one of his freaks of humor. 
No one, acquainted with the characteris- 
tics of the native American women, 
would probably ever have mistaken her 
for one of them. According to Mr. 
Goodwin, she was, when in her prime, a 
finely-formed, beautiful and graceful 
woman, who had an easy carriage. bright 
and expressive eyes, danced charmingly, 
and knew how to dress. She was intel- 
ligent, refined, well iuformed, engaging 
in her manners and conversation, and 
proud as a, princess. She had a rich 
voice, and was a sweet singer. All the 
authorities above quoted agree without 
hesitation in declaring her a native of In- 
dia. It seems to have been always so 
understood by those who knew her 
best, and they had their information from 
her and her husband. Where, nobody 
knows, but somewhere in his travels, 
most likely while in Europe, Potter 
came across this brilliant and fascinating 
daughter of the East, and married her. 
He was fond and proud of her and cher- 
ished her with loyal affection, even after 
she had contracted habits which dis- 
graced both herself and him. 

They had an only son and an only 
daughter. The former was a spendthrift 
and a drunkard; the latter a half-idiot, 
giveu to uncontrollable lewdness. It is 

said that the perpetual and untold shame 
and anguish of the proud and sensitive 
mafeiie** beets* se of i he conduct aai^hsi •.-.- 
dition of her children, drove her to seek 
'* some nepenthe to her soul " in the ob- 
livion of constant inebriation. Certain 
it is that she became disqualified for all 
duties, either in public or at home ; caused 
her husband immeasurable trouble; in- 
dulged in scandalous extravagance, com- 
pelling him to seek remedy at law to pre- 
vent her from running him ruinously in 
debt; that her charming beauty and 
quick intelligence were utterly wrecked ; 
and that she died the victim of her own 

With unqualified confidence the same 
authorities all assert that Richard Potter 
was a native of one of the French West 
India Islands, the Franklin and Hindu 
stories to the contrary notwithstanding. 
His hair was soft and handsome, but it 
testified to his African extraction. He 
was once turned out of a hotel in Mo- 
bile, while Thompson of Andover trav- 
eled with him, by a landlord who would 
not entertain a "nigger.'* Potter did 
not deny the charge, removed to another 
hotel, performed twelve nights in the 
town, and carried off $4,800 in silver, in 
a nail cask, as the net result. Learning 
that there was danger of being waylaid, 
he gave out that he was going to a certain 
place on a certain day, and departed 
the night previous in the opposite direc- 
tion. He was often called a mulatto, and 
never contradicted the aspersion. His 
characteristics raise a strong suspicion 
of Creole origin. 

He was proud, high spirited, courte- 
ous in deportment, independent, the soul 
of honor, generous and brave. As a cit- 
izen of Andover, to which town he came 
to remove his wife and children from the 
influences of city life, he was public 
spirited. honorable in business.prompt to 
pay, a kind neighbor and trusted friend. 
He was kind and liberal to the poor, and 
an early mover in the cause of temper- 
ance. He was a man of rare executive 
ability, of endless native resources, and 
possessed a mind enriched by experience, 
and well stored with information. His 
wit was fertile, quick a3 thought and 
sharp as steel. 


The more I have learned of the history 

: F&eier of the ;t Celebrated Ven- 

i.*i!(»qni*t, M the more I have been com- 

:d!-i to pay hhu honor. When I re- 

i -,, -«}lM»r the race to which he belouged; 

« probable deteriorating influences un- 
: -t which he passed his early life ; the ab- 
t, oce of all family and social ties and re- 
»t mints; the incentives and allurements 
to recklessness and ruin; the lack of all 
the ordinary processes and opportunities 
for education and discipline; theprofes- 

• ; .ii which he chose and followed; the 
disgrace of his wife and infamy of his 
children; and that, under all these, he 
lived honorably and died respected; I 
teem to see a man whom nature has roy- 
»Jly endowed, struggling against vast 

. la which finally threw but never van- 
quished him. "fie was as good a citizen 
u ever lived in Andover; and one of the 
truest and best men that ever lived!" 
This was the testimony of his nearest 
neighbor for forty years after Potter 

The lewdness of the half-idiot daugh- 
ter occasioned litigation, after Potter's 
death, in which Judge Nesmith and the 
htc Samuel Butterfield were counsel, 
oat of which grew a curious decision in 
l*w in relation to adultery, that obtained 

• considerable notoriety in New Hamp- 

Potter was buried in his own front 
yurd. When the Northern railroad was 
^uilt his remains had to be moved back 
tome yards, the limits of the road cover- 



ing his first resting-place. The wif~ did 
net long survive her husband,, gjsd a 
simple marble slab ki In Memory of S^ily 
H., wife of Richard Porter, who cied 
Oct. 24, 1S36, aged 49 years, " preserves 
her name from oblivion. The two graves 
have been pointed out by the conduc:ors 
on the Northern road, to numberless 
travellers within the last thirty years. 

The daughter died and. it is said, —as 
buried beside her parents. But no tj^Lee 
of a grave is discoverable. 

The son's name was Richard Crom- 
well. He was sometimes called "Dick" 
and sometimes " Crom.*- He was dis- 
solute and unprincipled. The property 
which his father left he soon sq aan- 
dered. He sold the farm to a Mr. C;lby 
of Bow, who sold it to Aaron Colby of 
Andover, who sold it to Wm. Howe, 
Esq., who sold it to John E. Morrison, 
the present owner. 

Taking his father's apparatus he Trav- 
eled, in company with Stephen Fellows, 
for a time, giving exhibitions, bur was 
not successful. He finally mortized 
the kit, and when it was taken from him 
under the mortgage, he broke into the 
premises where it was kept and stole it; 
in consequeuce of which he became a fu- 
gitive, as he had long before been a vag- 
abond, and was last heard of at Laosing- 
burg, N. Y. Thus is the family of the 
" great Magician" become extiuc:: but 
his name and his fame appear to have 
become historic. 



In every well-regulated printing-office 
inflexible rules are observed regarding 
manuscript that is to be put in type. 
The necessity for such rules is obvious; 
'or authors, in general, have no standard 
themselves, and their manuscripts differ 
*■ much as the peculiarities of those who 
prepare them. Many thoroughly-edu- 
cated men write a hand of which they 

ought to be ashamed; others, with mea 
gre educational advantages, make lines 
so fair that the youngest apprentices at 
the printing-business have no difficulty 
in putting their " copy " into type. The 
late Rufus Choate, so eminent as a law- 
yer and so eloquent as an advocate, wrote 
a hand so obscure as to confound printers 
and all others who undertook to decipher 



his letters and other papers. He also 
made sentences two of which have been 
known to li II an octavo page, and put no 
punctuation marks into his work. Some 
writers, and those, too, of ambitious pre- 
tensions to scholarship, seem to have no 
proper idea of punctuation, and distribute 
capital letters with the utmost freedom, 
and in defiance of all rules laid down in 
the books. Others, again, employ no 
other punctuation than adash( — )which, 
with them, takes the place of the com- 
ma, colon and semicolon. Another class 
of writers underscore about one word in 
every three— the purpose being to impart 
emphasis to the underscored words, 
since such are, according to the rule, put 
in italic type. But they can carry the 
practice to such au extreme that they 
not only .fail in their object, because of 
the multitude of their italic words, but 
mar the printed page. A book that is 
well printed should contain as few italic 
words as possible, and those be employed 
only where, according to well-established 
practice, they are required. Hon. 
Henry Hubbard, Governor of Xew Hamp- 
shire in 1842 and 1843, wrote animal mes- 
sages of great length, plentifully supplied 
with italic words, to the discomfort of 
printers in the oliice of the Xew Hamp- 
shire Patriot, and those in all other news- 
paper offices in the State which published 
the messages of that chief magistrate. 

If all manuscript] sent to newspaper 
and book printing-offices was printed as 
written — and it- is very common for au- 
thors to direct the printer to " follow 
copy" — many aspiring public men would 
cut a sorry figure after their productions 
appeared in print. Men have been known 
to place a capital letter at the commence- 
ment of every line, as if engaged in mak- 
ing verses; others, as before remarked, 
employ the ( — ) with " perfect impunity 
and great boldness," and others punctu- 
ate hap-hazard. Sensible men, however, 
submit their compositions to the printer 
with directions to capitalize and punctu- 
ate as to him seems proper; well aware 
that if he is master of his business he 
will make straight whatever is crooked, 
and present the author to the public in 
better plight than he could himself. 

In m^st cases the proof sheets of man- 
uscript sent to the offices of daily and 
weekly journals are not sent to the au- 
thors. It is otherwise in book and job 
printing establishments, and it is com- 
mon for authors to make the final correc- 
tion. This is a procedure that affords 
mutual satisfaction ; for, when the writer 
has revised his work, no other responsi- 
bility rests upon the printer than to see 
that the types are not disarranged and 
that the press-work is properly done. 
And right here is a point where many 
printers have had experience of a trying 
character, namely, in material changes 
from the copy, and sometimes to such an 
extent as to greatly enhauce to the au- 
thor the cost of his work. In a well- 
remembered instance in the experience 
of the writer of this article, an address 
before a literary society in Dartmouth 
College, printed in pamphlet form in the 
office of the Xew Hampshire Statesman, 
was so changed by the author's correc- 
tions as to more than double the cost of 
the work. The additional expense was 
of course borne by him; but even if the 
printer be reimbursed for his time, labor 
and perplexity, the work itself is marred 
by a multitude of typographical changes, 
and the satisfaction ot producing a good 
specimen of printing greatly lessened. 
The prolific power of some writers seems 
greatly quickened by the sight of their 
proof sheets. 

The difference between fair and illegi- 
ble manuscript is like that between a day 
in June and one in mid-winter. One 
causes smiles, the other frowns. It the 
hand-writing of a writer is illegible, he 
should employ a copyist, and every one 
who writes for the press should cover 
only one side of the sheets. Many news- 
paper offices reject all manuscript written 
on both surfaces of the paper, however 
eminent the author or important and 
seasonable the topic he discusses. In a 
business experience of many years we 
found it greatly to the advantage of the 
office to examine and prepare for compo- 
sition most manuscript that came to us. 
Unless this course was pursued with the 
larger portion of it, the inevitable conse- 
quence was increased labor and vexation 


reeling the proofs. The manu- 

v,;' some writers can never bo for- 
i - 

•-a for its illegible and slovenly char- 
i i r. and that of others will be long re- 

i ,:»..«red for its excellence. John 
r-v.MF:n. Esq.. one of the founders 
•... j many years the right arm of the 
\.w Hampshire Historical Society, 
m rote a hand that a child could read, and 
bii pen, too, moved with much rapidity. 
Much of his manuscript is deposited in 
'.-..• rooms of that institution at Concoid. 
Ilia patient researches were mainly of 
,-• m alogical and historical character, and 
appeared in the Historical Collections of 
the Society, and caused him to be well 
tnown throughout New England, al- 
though lie was most of life an invalid, 
»nrl rarely went abroad. Several manu- 
tcrlpt volumes treating of graduates of 
Harvard College, deposited in the rooms 
<•! the Historical Society, bear testimony 
to hi> careful toil in a department of lit- 
» rature that has few attractions to most 
people of literary taste. The manuscript 
of Hon. John J. Gilchrist, a Justice, 
a:-d subsequently Chief Justice of the 
Supreme Court of this State, was abso- 
lutely perfect. In a long experience we 
have never had to do with better "copy.'" 


He prepared a Digest of all the Reports 
pf Cases derided up to the time he was 
Chief Justice, and it was printed by 
McFarland <& Jenks for Gardner P. Lyon, 
bookseller. It is a volume of more than 
six hundred octavo pages, and rarely or 
never has an equal amount of work 
moved along more pleasantly. Other 
Justices and Chief Justices of that Court 
made excellent manuscript, but that of 
Judge Gilchrist was perfection itself. 

Every author desirous of ascertaining 
how much space his manuscript will till 
in page and type of prescribed size, and 
would count the cost before he com- 
mences to build, should write upon pa- 
per of uniform size and place the same 
number of lines upon a page. The 
printer can then determine the number 
of printed pages the manuscript will rill 
and the cost of the work. This is, of 
course, upon the presumption that the 
author makes no additions while the 
work is in press, and no material altera- 
tions from the copy. We printed a 
small work many years ago which the 
writer thought would fill about twenty- 
four pages, but he made such copious 
additions that it exceeded seventy-five. 


The day was auspicious, and the at- 
'.• ridance larger than on any former oc- 
casion. The Society's rooms were found 
too small to accommodate those present, 
*u.J to transact business with comfort. 

The meetiug was called to order at 10 
a. M., the President, Rev. Silas Ketchum 
ol Windsor, Conn., in the chair. After 
the r.-ading of the minutes of the last 
Quarterly Meeting, the President read 
hjs annual address, setting forth the con- 
ation of the Society's affairs, a general 
review of its transactions for the past 
year, and making several recommenda- 
■• >ns, to wit: The weeding out of the 
duplicates and undesirable articles in the 

museum and library; the donation and 
exchange of articles to and with certain 
societies ; the careful husbanding of the 
Society's resources; the vigorous prose- 
cution of the work of the Historical Com- 
mittee, particularly in the collection of 
the perishing materials for history. and in 
gathering lists of sepulchral inscriptions 
from the various towns. 

George H. Ketchum, Curator, reported 
the donation of about 3000 articles to the 
library and museum during the year, 
making the whole number to the present 
time a little over 33.000. Among the re- 
cent additions was a collection of about 
150 manuscripts formerly belonging to 



Gen. Amos Shepard, consisting ol docu- 
ments relating to the early settlement 
and sciticrs oi Alstead; also valuable 
mineral specimens from the Yellowstone 
Park by Hon. Chas. H. Bennett of Iowa, 
and from Arizona by G. S. Davis of Cal- 

H. A. Fellows, Chairman of the His- 
torical Committee, presented the folds of 
the fifth volume of the Society's Ms. Col- 
lections. In it are copied the papers of 
the late Gen. Aquila Davis of Warner, 
and a memorandum book kept by his 
father, Capt. Francis, first settler of the 
town. Also interesting papers relating 
to the early settlement of Boscawen and 
Dixville, formerly belonging to Col. 
Henry Gerrish, Col. Timothy Dix and 
Daniel Webster. The Committee was 
given more time to arrange, index and 
bind the volume. 

Charles Gould reported that he had 
nearly completed the copying of the sep- 
ulchral inscriptions of Hopkintou. The 
Society has already extensive lists, some 
of them complete, of inscriptions in Bris- 
tol, Hill, Ashland, Alexandria, Franklin, 
Concord, Ilenniker, Dumbarton. Exeter, 
Hanover and other towns. Most of 
these are already recorded and indexed. 

William II. Stinson, Esq.. of Dunbar- 
ton read an interesting paper, prepared 
hastily, but with great good taste and 
judgment, on the sepulchral records of 
Dumbarton. A copy was requested for 
the Hist. Colls, of the Society. 

Wm. A. Wallace, Esq., gave some ac- 
count of his endeavors towards a history 
of Canaan, a considerable part of the ear- 
ly history being already in manuscript. 
Mr. W. was appointed to read a paper on 
the subject at the next annual meeting. 
Col. L. W. Cogswell was appointed to 
present a paper at the same time on the 
sepulchral records of Henniker, and Rob- 


ert Ford to collect the entire list of in- 
scriptions in Danburv. Also to pony the 
records of tue first church in Danbury, 
now extinct. Mr. Wallace presented 
valuable douations to the museum and 
library of matters relating to the history 
of Canaan. 

The President read a paper on the life 
and character of Richard Potter, pub- 
lished in this number of the Granite 
Monthly. * 

Col. Cogswell presented appropriate 
resolutions on the death uf Dr. Bouton, 
an honorary member, which were adopt- 

The Society elected Rev. Silas Ketch- 
urn, President; Capt. G. A. Curtice and 
S. L. Fletcher, Esq., Vice Presidents; 
John F. Jones, Esq., Treasurer ; Charles 
Gould, Esq., Recording Secretary; Wal- 
ter Scott Davis, Esq., Corresponding 
Secretary; Geo. H. Ketchum, Curator; 
D. C. Blanchard, Rev. Silas Ketchum, 
Col. L. W. Cogswell, Wm. A. Wallace, 
Esq., Wm. II. Stinson, Esq., S. L. 
Fletcher, Esq., Wm. M. Chase, Esq., 
Historical Committee. 

The Society acknowledges the receipt 
of valuable additions during the year, be- 
sides those above referred to, from Col. 
Albert H. Hoyt of Cincinnati, O., Gen. 
Wm. S. Striker of New Jersey, Dr. Sam- 
uel A. Green of Boston, Hon. Clark Jill- 
son of Worcester, Elijah Bingham, Esq., 
of Cleveland. O., the Mass. Hist. Soc, 
X. E. Historic Gen. Soc, Worcester So- 
ciety of Antiquity, the Essex Institute, 
Gov. Prescott and others. 

The Society has published during the 
year A Diary of the Invasion of Canada, 
edited with notes by Rev. Silas Ketch- 
um, and A List of the Centenarians of 
New Hampshire who have deceased since 
1705, by D. F. Secomb. 





OCTOBER, 1878. 

NO. 3. 


In previous numbers of the Granite 
Monthly there have been presented of representative men of New 
Hampshire, in business, and public and 
professionanal life, with accompanying 
portraits. Herewith we give a short 
biographical notice, with portrait, of a 
well known lawyer, who, although not 
an actual resident of the State, is a mem- 
ber of the Strafford County bar, and ex- 
tensively engaged in practice in this and 
other counties of eastern New Hamp- 
shire, as well as in the State of Maine. 

William J. Copelaxd is a son of 
Rev. William H. Copeland, a Baptist 
clergyman, yet living and a resident of 
Lebanon, Me. He was born in Albion. 
Kennebec County, Me., Jan. 24, 1841. 
being now in his thirty-eighth year. 
The Copeland family trace their ancestry 
to Sir John Copeland, who fought at the 
battle of Neville's Cross, under Edward 
HI., October 17, 1340. and with his own 
band captured King David of Scotland, 
whom he bore from the tield with a com- 
pany of attendants, and, proceeding to 
Calais, delivered him into the hands of 
hie royal master, then in France. For 
this service he was created a banneret bv 

the king, and given a pensionof live him-' 
dred pounds per annum. He was also 
made Warden of Berwick, Sheriff of 
Northumberland and Keeper of Rox- 
burgh Castle. Lawrence Copeland. a 
lineal descendant of Sir John, from 
whom sprang all the Copelands in Amer- 
ica, came to this country and settled at 
Mount Holliston, Mass., where he died 
December 30, 1699, aged 110 years. Mo- 
ses Copeland, a great-grandson of Law- 
rence, and from whom William J., the 
subject of our sketch, is a direct descend- 
ant in the fifth generation, went with his 
brother Joseph from Milton, Mass.. to 
Warren, Me., in 1763. being among the 
early settlers of that place. He was a 
man of great activity, shrewd and calcu 
lating, and gained wealth and distinc- 
tion, taking a prominent part in the. en- 
terprises of the town. In early life he 
had served in the army, entering at sev- 
enteen, under Capt. JBoice: was at Ticon- 
deroga in 1758. and at the taking of Que- 
bec the following year. Soon after his 
settlement in "Warren he was appointed 
sheriff, and held the office eleven years. 
He also held the office of crier of the 
court several years. From constant con- 









tact with lawyers and observation of 
legal proceedings he gained a good 
knowlege of the law, and finally became 
the principal lawyer of the place, for, al- 
though not educated to the profession. 
bis practical information and ready 
knowledge of human nature rendered his 
advice and assistance in legal controver- 
sies the most valuable that could be ob- 
tained in that region. This Moses Cope- 
land was a cousin of President John Ad- 
ams, and a grandson of John Alden up- 
en the maternal side. 

William J. Copeland attended the com- 
mon schools in Shapleigh and Berwick, 
where his father was then preaching. In 
1855 he attended the academy at South 
Berwick, and afterwards, for a time, the 
West Lebanon and Limerick Academies, 
earning the money to defray the neces- 
sary expenses by teaching in the winter 
and farm labor in the summer, teaching 
his first school, at Shapleigh, before he 
was sixteen years of age. Having a 

strong inclination toward the legal pro- 
fession, he entered the office of Hon. In- 
crease S. Kimball of Sanford, Me., at an 
early age, where he pursued the study of 
the law until he was admitted to the bar, 
which was before he was twenty-one 
years of age. He then located in Presque 
Isle, Aroostook County, where he en- 
tered upon the practice of his profession, 
remaining there until April, 1868, when 
he removed to Berwick, opposite Great 
Falls, where he has since resided, having 
established his office at the latter place. 
During the past ten } r ears in which he 
has been in practice at Great Falls, it is 
safe to say Mr. Copeland has attained a 
degree of success in his profession sel- 
dom equalled and never surpassed by 
any practitioner in the country outside 
the great cities. This is attributable, it 
may fairly be presumed, to his indomita- 
ble energy, intense application and thor- 
rough devotion to his professional work. 
With powers of physical endurance far 


greater than those with which most men 
V.v. e».I. -with a keen insight into hu- 
man nature, and a strong love for the 
contests of the legal arena, he has the 
ability to command success in cases 
vt others would see only failure from 
i ho start. Without any of the graces of 
oratory, he exercises, nevertheless, a 
wonderful power over the jury, through 
hi- ready perception of their individual 
characteristics, enabling him to appeal 
directly to their understanding and judg- 
ment, and the earnestness with which he 
enters into the case, carrying as it does 
the appearance of a settled conviction of 
the justice ol his cause. 

In a description of Mr. Copeland's 
phrenological character, recently writ- 
ten out by Prof. O. S. Fowler, that dis- 
tinguished phrenologist says : •• Poicer is 
your predominant characteristic, and 
much greater than I often find it. It ap- 
pertains to your constitution, intellect, 
will and whole character, so that you 
have brought and will bring more to pass 
than an}' one man in thousands who 
started evenly with you. This comes 
from the predominance of your muscu- 
lar system, which renders your mental 
operations remarkably virile and effec- 
tive, to which you superadd great mem- 
ory, especially of facts, faces and places. 
Are pre-eminently adapted to the stud}- 
and practice of law. Can be a public 
man and leader. Are remarkable for 
luoking right into and through things at 
a glance, and particularly sagacious in 
spelling out men/' 

As has been stated. Mr. Copeland has 
a large practice at the Strafford County 
bar. being engaged, upon one side or the 
other, in a great proportion of all the 
cases coming to trial in the county. In 
Carroll County, also, he has been exten- 
sively engaged, having been retained in 
most of the important cases tried there 
for several years past, prominent among 
which was the famous Buzzell murder 
< ase, whereiu he secured the acquital of 
the respondent upon his first trial, in 



May, 1S75. though he was subsequently 
tried and efonvicted of the statutory 
crime of "'hiring and procuring ' the 
murder. In the management of this case, 
especially at the first trial. Mr. Copeland 
displayed his remarkable powers to the 
best possible advantage, manifesting a 
force of character, command of resources 
and influence over men seldom shown. 
His services have also been called into 
requisition at the Rockingham and Bel- 
knap County courts, while his practice 
in Maine even exceeds that in this State. 
As few men are able to accomplish as 
much- professional labor as Mr. Cope- 
land, there are few who -receive so large 
an income thereirom — certainly not more. 
than one or two iu this State— and should 
becontinue to devote himself exclusive- 
l}" to his profession for the next ten 
years, he will have gained not only a re- 
markable reputation for professional suc- 
cess, but material wealth fully commen- 
surate therewith. 

Mr. Copeland married, in March. 1562. 
Miss Ellen L. Wade, youngest daughter 
of Loring and Sarah (Foster) Wade, for- 
merly of Maehias. Maine, and a grand- 
daughter of Col. Benjamin Foster. Jr.. 
of Maehias. prominent in the early his- 
tory of that town. By this union he has 
had three children, all daughters, two of 
whom are living— Mabelle. born April 
10, 1S64. and Kate. January 13. 15*57. 
His home is one of the finest and most 
elegant residences in that section, the 
abode of comfort and domestic enjoy- 
ment, and his few leisure hours, here 
passed, are not without their happy in- 
fluence upon his busy and earnest life. 

In politics he has always been a Re~ 
publican, but has never held office, or 
engaged in political life beyond the man- 
ifestation of decided opposition to what 
is generally known as the *• machine" in 
party management, until during there- 
cent campaign in Maine, when he es- 
poused the cause of the new National 
Greenback party, and made several ef- 
fective speeches upon the stump. 





Two distinct and breathing worlds lie 
open for the sojourner in this fleeting 
life; the world of the present and the 
world of the past.' Those who love the 
present derive most enjoyment in visiting 
great cities and centres of fashion, pic- 
ture galleries, and splendid libraries. 
They are enraptured by the pageantry 
and grandeur of imperial palaces, the 
glitter and show of courtly ceremonies, 
and all the gay dissipations of fashiona- 
ble life. The devotees of the pust prefer 
rather to dream away the hours on the 
spot where great men fought for a wor- 
thy cause, or linger among the ruined 
halls of greatness. The eloquent voices 
of enother age, though only in imagina- 
tion, speak greater truths to them than 
the loudest utterances of the present. 

To those who possess this secset. Kit- 
tery Point, in Maine, possesses many 
points of deep interest. Whittier, in his 
sweet verse, has ofteu mentionrd some of 
them, yet the traveller has to carefully 
seek for them, for like Hamlet, they 
dread to be "too much V the sun." Once 
found, however, and they reward the ex- 
plorer with suggestive and noble pictures 
of the past. In an article like this, too 
little space is granted for more than a 
brief mention of its chief attractions. 

Kittery lies opposite to Portsmouth, 
the Piscataqua river flosving between. 
and the visitor to the latter place usually 
visits the former. You cross by a long 
bridge set upon piles, where the water is 
more than thirty feet deep. On either 
hand lies the loveliest scenery in New 
Hampshire. * Blue as the interior of a 
hare-bell the broad, romantic river, sanc- 
tified by John Smith's wanderings and 
Whittier's lays, flows southward to the 
sea, which you can discern in the dis- 
tance through the soft violet haze. Be- 
hind you lies Portsmouth, its spires ris- 
ing in the air*, old Fort Constitution tow- 

ers at your right, seaward are White Isl- 
and, Boar Island, Great Island, and 
Whale's Back, the whole coast clothed 
with villages as far as the eye can reach. 
Fronting you is the famous navy yard, 
with its arsenals and its shop-houses. A 
long undulating highway runs in a sinu- 
ous line before the eye, hedged in by 
green orchards and clustering farm-hou- 
ses, reminding the English traveller of 
those emerald lanes that lead down into 
Kent and Sussex. Three miles on you 
view a little hamlet, the spire of a small 
church rising above the roofs, and near- 
er you behold mouldering old docks upon 
which boys sit with their feet over the 
water, fishing. Groups of sailboats and 
fishing ' schooners ride in the harbor, 
their broad white sails flapping listlessly 
in the breeze. This is the outline of the 
scene that is spread before you. 

There is a suggestion of the antique, 
and of quiet decay in the general aspect 
of the town. The stranger is reminded 
by a hundred evidences that he is look- 
ing upon the seat of past prosperity and 
vanished splendor. Distinct and widely 
separated indeed is the present with its 
quiet, half mournful life, and that famous 
past when Kittery was a commercial and 
social centre, when the activity of trade 
made it a new world Tyre, and ships 
sailed from its decks to India and the 
Southern seas— ships that circumnaviga- 
ted the globe. 

On the whole Atlantic coast there is no 
better harbor than that afforded by the 
widening of the Piscataqua below Ports- 
mouth and Kittery, and in the colonial 
period it was a great channel of com- 
merce. At Kittery and Portsmouth were 
mercantile centres which vied with Sa- 
lem and Boston. Newport atid New York. 
Some of their merchants had a hundred 
veesels at their command, engaged in 
commerce and fisheries, and largh trad 



|ng parties were ever coming in on land 
ffnrii the lands of the Abenequis, the 
Coos, and the St. 'Francis. " Gar and ro- 
mantic must have been those expeditions 
into the summer forest; the encounters 
with Indians, half-breeds and squaws; 
the wild adventures, and the return to 
the populous towns. Those were the 
golden days of Portsmouth and Kitteiy. 

hands are usually employed in the yard. 
As pe pass up-town, through the his- 
torically famous »breetai we ba^e time to 
more leisurely notice the architecture of 
the buildings. Most of the houses are 
modern, but among them are now and 
then seen a more ancient type of dwell- 
ing — relics of the revolutionary epoch. 
Their quaint, small paned windows, am- 

It is delightful to lounge about the old pie door porches, glittering brass knock- 
ers, and enormous chimneys are at once 
old fashioned and suggestive. One 
could, gazing at these antique houses, 
almost fancy that from them would issue 
gentlemen' of colonial days, dressed in 
knee breeches, silken stockings, plum 
colored coats, cocked hats, and silver 
buckles. Everv one of these houses has 

worm-eaten wharves on the sunny after- 
noons. There is a fascinating air of 
dreams and idleness about the place 
which is very soothing. Yen- little busi- 
ness is transacted here now-a-days. 
Three or four barges laden with coal, 
ami a tew schooners bearing the valuable 
produce of the Maine forests, with here 
and there a fishing smack, constitutes 
about the whole of its commercial pros- 
perity. In the great nany yard there is 
comparative quiet. Only now and then 
is there a vessel launched from the stocks. 
k is only by a great effort that you can 
imagine all the past glory of the old 
maritime town — its merchants as rich as 
princes and almost as powerful, its large, 
noisy ship-yards, its huge warehou>es 
stocked with merchandise jrom all parts 
of the world, its numerous fleets going 
and coming to and from China, the In- 
dies, and the Mediterranean. 

Before leaving the river side we must 
say a few more words about the navy 

its treasere of tradition, and if allowed 
io speak could tell rare tales of auld lang 
syne. There is one great mansion which 
we cannot summarily dismiss with a pass- 
ing notice, for though curtailed some- 
what of its fair proportions, it is still the 
object of frequent pilgrimages toKittery 
Point. We refer to the old Pepperell 
House, built one hundred and ninety 
years ago, which has seen more of splen- 
dor and sheltered more famous individu- 
als than any other private residence en 
this side of the sea. 

The house was built by the first Wil- 
liam Pepperell. the great merchant and 
ship-builder of his time. He accumulat- 

yard. It contains an area of nearly six- ed vast wealth by trade, and his mansion 
ty-live acres. Permanent gray walls of 
dimension split granite enclose it on all 
fides. There is every convenience and 
facility for constructing the largest class 
of government ships. The water at the 
wharveB is of sufficient depth to float the 
largest man-of-war at the lowest tide. 
Three large ship-houses, seven large tim- 
ber sheds, a mast house, and a rigging 
house, machine shops, and wood shops 
°" the most extensive and improved 
plans pertain to the yard. There is a 
floating dry-dock for the repair of ships, 
which cost nearly a million of dollars. 
It is three Lundred and fifty feet in 
length, one hundred and fifteen in width, 
a»id 'thirty-eight feet in height. The 
quarters for oflicers and men are not ex- 
celled by those of any naval station in 


country. Some over live hundred 

reflected the boundlessness of his means. 
Grand as any old English castle, it stood 
looking aut to sea. girt by a great park 
where droves of deer sported. His son, 
the famous Sir William Pepperell. en- 
larged and adorued it at the time of his 
marriage in 1734. This Lord Pepperell. 
the only American baronet after Sir Wil- 
liam Phipps. was a remarkable man. He 
was the richest merchant in the colonies, 
and had at times two hundred ship at 
sea. His success at Louisburg proved 
him a skillful general, and his political 
influence was second to that of no man's 
in ihe oolonies. The style he lived in re- 
called the Feudal magnificence of the 
great barons. The walls of his great 
mansion were adorned with rich carv- 
ings, splendid mirrors, and costly paint- 
ings. In his side-board glittered heavy 


silver plate and rare old China. Wine a 
hundred years old from the delicate, spi- 
cy brands of RhiiieJand to the fiery Tus- 
can, was in his cellars. He kept a coach 
with six white horses. A retinue of 
slaves and hired menials looked to him as 
their lord, and he had a barge upon the 
river, in which he was rowed by a crew 
of Africans in gaudy uniforms. The on- 
ly man in all the colonies worth two 
hundred thousand pounds sterling, reign- 
ing grandly over grand estates, for, like 
an English peer, he might have travelled 
all day long upon his own lands, sove- 
reign lord, in fact, if not in name, of 
more than five hundred thousand acres — 
timber, plain and valley, in Xew Hamp- 
shire and Maine— Sir William Pepperell 
could do this and yet not live heyond his 

The memory of all this baronial mag- 
nificence fills the mind as you stand be- 
fore the old mansion where he lived, or 
at the Knight's tomb in the orchard 
across the road, a few hundred yards 
from the goodly residence that he built. 
Faded is the escutcheon on the marble 
tombstone. r curtailed of its fair propor- 
tions, and sadly decayed is the grand old 
mansion, but the\' recall visions of splen- 
dor still. The house looks down from its 
three story grandeur with scorn upon its 
humble and more modern neighbors, and 
well- it may. Its experiences have been 
unique. British Admirals, belted Earls, 
grave statesmen, and the noblest chivalry 
of the old and the new world have abode 
under its roof. Its master was one of 
the most brilliant personages of his gen- 


posted. The other rooms are smaller 
but statelv. The ordinal paper remains 
on the walls of the wide hall, as do the 
deer .antlers above the doors. The ob- 
servatory upon the roof affords a fine 
view of the surrounding country. A no- 
ble avenue of elms, a quarter of a mile 
in length, formerly led from the street to 
the door. The trees were about one rod 
apart. The perspective effect of this 
grand avenue must have been peculiarly 
graceful and impressive. Some vandal 
cut down the trees twenty-five years ago. 
But no one can destroy the beauty of the 
noble site on which the mansion stands* 
James T. Fields has lately endeavored, 
among others, to purchase it for a sum- 
mer residence. 

We pass from the atmosphere of these 
aucient structures once more into the 
light and life of the sea-port town. A 
change has taken place during eur ab- 
sence among the memories of the past. 
For the first time, A\e are reminded of 
the fact that Kittery has claims as a pop- 
ular summer resort. Yes, the old town 
has Kip Van Winkled into life again, ac- 
quiring fresh fame in its new dignity. It 
is now four o'clock in the afternoon, and 
the quaint streets have become a sort of 
Hyde Park-. Fxuestrians and carriages 
dash thither and hither, making a pleas- 
ant and brilliant promenade. The friends 
who breakfasted together a few hours be- 
fore, have now the satisfaction to bow to 
each other from barouches or from the 
saddle. The lovely ladies who wore 
bowling costumes this morning, wear 
driving costumes this afternoon, and to- 

eration: and although the famous men night they will Haunt gaudy ball-room 

who came alter him. Langdon. Washing- 
ton, Adams. Franklin and Livingston, 
with many others — figured in greater 
ovents, still the name and memory of Sir 
William Pepperell are well nigh as fa- 
mous as those of the Dii majous of our 

attire. How they smile and bow ! How 
the ribbons flutter and the gloves glitter ! 
The air is soft and mild. The music from 
a brass band chimes pleasantly on the 
ear. Over all shines the warm sun, from 
a spotless sky. 

But all this bustle and gaiety and splen- 

Half a mile to the West is another fa- dor is far apart from the life of the town. 

mous old mansion, the Sparhawk House, 
built by Lord Pepperell in 1741, for his 
daughter, who married Col. Sparhawk. 
This structure is in better repair than the 
other, and is one of the stateliest houses 
of that age in America. Its great parlor 
is thirty by twenty feet, and very high 

It preserves its indomitable repose des- 
pite the fury of the brief summer episode 
of excitement around it with a smile of 
scorn as it were. For one short month 
the saturnalia of fashion reels along its 
wide beach, and holds high festival in 
the very heart of its quaintness, but dux- 


;,\£ the rest of the year the old town do- 
t*% silently upon the water and dreams 


oi its great days departed. 

The last spot we visited was the an- 
efent grave-yard,— a fitting finale of this 
brief sojourn. As the grave closes the 
mortal career of man, so we chose that 
?hl« cemetery should be the end of this 
day's scene of active, varied, picturesque 
transitions. Verily a good place to for- 
get the vanities of this life. The old 
^rave-yard itself is dead. Pomp, pride. 
ambition, and even grief itself are all at 
an end. Black slate headstones and the 
costlier maible monument, stand in a ru- 
inous state side by side. Xoble dust 
slumbers beneath the sod, and once in a 
while we can decipher an ancient crest 
or the name of some colonial magnate. 

" History numbers here 
Some names and scenes to long remembrance 

And summer verdure clothes the lonely breast, 
Uf the small hillock whete our fathers rest. 

Theirs -was the dauntless heart, the hand, the 

That bade the desert blossom and rejoice." 

\S e wish we could hra\ e Bsgereti long- 
er within its sacred precincts. It is good 
for man sometimes to forget the things 
of this life, and to realize the common 
fate of all mankind. And these old cem- 
eteries have charms yf their own. Both 
the ethical and the historical faculties are 
aroused as well as the spiritual in the 
contemplation of such burying-grounds. 
Among all our old cities places of similar 
historic interest are found. Translate 
these localities north of the White Mount- 
ains and how many anuual pilgrimages 
they would receive. So long as they re- 
main within a pleasant foot ramble they 
are rarely visited, but if the circumstanc 
transpired that we suggested, those local- 
ities would be designated by some endur- 
ing monument, and a pebble from the soil 
would be treasured as a mantel curiosity. 




Koads are generally constructed in ful- 
filment of the immediate wants of the 
existing community. The first roads in 
Hopkinton were laid out ro suit the then 
present condition of things. One of the 
earliest acts of the proprietors was to 
take measures for establishing needed 
loads. On the 14th of February, 1737, a 
& vote was passed appropriating twenty 
pounds for clearing a road from Rum- 
ford (now Concord) to the centre of the 
new township, and to be used in con- 
structing roads north and south to the 
extent the appropriation would allow. 
On the 13th of May it was enacted that 
the money appropriated for clearing 
roads be collected by the first of July. 
On the 20th of December a sum of forty- 
four pounds, accumulated in the treas- 
ury* was appropriated for the clearing 
0* the road to Rumford. Dea. Henry 

Mellen. Daniel Clafiin, John Jones and 
John Brewer were made a committee to 
confer with the selectmen of Rumford 
in reference to the proposed road. On 
March 29. 173S, it was voted that the 
money granted to clear the road should 
be assessed in the following May, show- 
ing that a previous vote to collect had 
not as yet been fulfilled. One the 30th 
of September of the same year, it was 
voted that a road be constructed from 
Rumford lineto the meeting-house spot or 
place; also from Meeting-House Hill 
west to Contoocook river; also a road 
on the east side, to accommodate lots; 
also from the meeting-house place to the 
Great Meadow, so ' called; and from the 
meeting-house to the township north. 

The first roads were merely paths 
traced through the native wilderness. 
As population and occupation increased, 
fences and walls became in demand. 


Roads and attendant accommodations 
were multiplied with the growth of the 
local settlement. On May 12; I7GG. it 
was voted to build a boat, in the Con- 
toocook river, said boat to be as large, as 
Deacon Merrill's boat in Concord, for the 
accommodation of people passing be- 
tween Hopkinton and New Ainesbury 
(now Warner). On March 2. 1772, a 
vote was passed appropriating thirty 
pounds in labor for the construction of 
a bridge across the Contoocook. 

The increasing need of facile inter- 
communication between more distant lo- 
calities at length led to the establish- 
ment of better public thoroughfares. In 
1805 the present communication between 
the two villages was established, by 
building the road from Putney's Hill to 
the meeting-house, relieving people of 
the necessity of climbing the southern 
brow of the hill or taking the easterly 
route leaving the lower village just north 
of the blacksmith shop of Horace Ed- 
munds, and thence running to a point 
just west of the house of S. B. Gage. 
where it connected with the present 
highway at this spot. In 1815 the road 
known as the "turnpike" was con- 
structed. It was a main line to Con- 
cord, avoiding the toilsome Dimond Hill 
road on the east. In 1827 the so-called 
" new road" from Hopkinton village to 
Dunbarton was built. This was to ac- 
commodate a public stage route between 
Boston and Hanover, which, south of 
Hopkiutontooka westerly direction. The 
well known Basset Mill road was con- 
structed in 1836. The so-called " new 
road" to Concord was built about 1841. 
This was also in accommodation of a 
stage route between Hopkinton and Con- 
cord and more distant points. 


Among the first taverners in Hopkin- 
ton were Benjamin Wiggin and Theophi- 
lis Stanley. Several persons quite early 
were engaged in hotel keeping on the 
site of the old Perkins House. The most 
notable of these earliest landlords was 
Mr. Wiggin, who was justice, postmas- 
ter and trader also. He came to this 
town from Stratham, N. II., and became 
established as a landlord as early as 1774, 
which date was inscribed upon his old- 

fashioned swinging sign-board, one-half 
in each upper corner. On the bottom of 
this sigii-L>oai"d was the significant an- 
nouncement. i; Entertainment by B. W.*" 
This sign-board also bore a painted rep- 
resentation of a man on horseback fol- 
lowed by two dogs. Never were worse 
proportions delineated. The man's waist 
was shrunk up to comparative nothing- 
ness, while his lower extremities en- 
larged into feet of enormous proportions. 
Benjamin Wiggin's hotel is still stand- 
ing, being the house next westerly to the 
Episcopal Church. In front of this situ- 
ation the Rev. Mr. Cram, the third min- 
ister in town, was ordained out of doors 
in the month of February. A reception 
was given to General Lafayette iu the 
same place, on his visit to this country in 
1824. Mr. Wiggin died in 1822. He was 
a man of much public spirit and social 
generosity. After his death the tavern 
stand was sold to Benjamin Greenleaf of 
Salisbury. N. II. Subsequently it has 
passed through various hands. 

Capt. Birnsley Perkins' tavern was for 
many years a hotel par excellence. It 
was the grand hotel of all this region. 
It stood on the site of the late remodeled 
' ; Perkins House." In the days of its 
highest prosperity there were three lines 
of stages passing through the town. 
Hopkinton was then one of the shire 
towns of old Hillsborough county, and 
for a time the capital of the State. Here 
came the old legislators — John Langdon. 
John Sullivan. Daniel and Ezekiel Web- 
ster, and a host of others. Great times 
were seen here on public days. The best 
fare was always to be had. Although 
Capt. Perkins was the most noted ruler 
of this house, he was not its first land- 
lord. Public house was kept here by 
several persons previous to him. It is 
not definitely known to us when the 
tavern was erected, but once a piece of 
plaster fell from a wall, reveling the 
date 1786 on the lathing. When the old 
meeting house was burned in 17S9. it 
was kept by a Mr. Babson. Subsequent 
to the burning a town meeting was called 
at this tavern, and the gathering being 
large, it was adjourned u to Mr. Babson's 
barn yard." where important business 
was transacted. Being the principal 



blic hou?e in this part of the town, 

I iho natural resort of most all trav- 
eling characters and enterprises, its 
patronage was of an incongruous nature. 
including statesmen, -lawyers, transient 
travelers, teamsters, show-men. etc. 
Captain Perkins opened this house in 
1811, was landlord about forty years, and 
died on the premises in 1S56. 

For many years this ancient house 
was closed to the public. The innova- 
tion of railroads turned the course of 
travel and shut off patronage. But 
times revived a few years ago, when the 
••Perkins House" passed under the man- 
agement of Mr. D. B. Story, who kept it 
open until its destruction b 3- tire in Octo- 
ber 1S72. During Mr. Story's conduct of 
the establishment, it underwent impor- 
tant repairs and was largely patronized 
by summer boarders. It was also a re- 
sort for winter sleighing and dancing 
parties from Concord. Its loss was a 
great misfortune, both on account of its 
historic memories and business advan- 

Klder Joseph Putney's tavern stood on 
the highest point of road between the 
two villages in town, on the site now oc- 
cupied by the house of Mr. Charles Put- 
nam. It was part of a large farming es- 
tablishment and was patronized by the 
more lowly among travelers. To obtain 
a clearer idea of life in a public accom- 
modation like Elder Putney's we must 
understand a feature of ancient travel 
which was more or less exhibited in or 
round all country inns. In the olden 
time all freight was of course carried 
through the country on wheels and run- 
ners and in many instances by the own- 
ers themselves. Teamsters were often 
inclined to indulge only the most econo- 
mical fare. When teams large and small 
put up for the night, the drivers often 
brought their own provisions, thereby 
saving all expenditures except for lodg- 
ings, grog and hay. It was a pictur- 
esque sight when a large company of 
travelers gathered around the open lire. 
and refreshed themselves each from his 
own box of edibles. Elder Putney was 
particularly hospitable to his guests, al- 
ways furnishing them with plenty of 
cider for nothing. His supply of winter 

apples was just as free. The average 
patronage of a house like Elder Put- 
ney's would surprise the m-xaern enquir- 
er. The number of horses and men requir- 
ed to transport freights was large, and the 
accumulation of small teams swelled the 
road travel immensely. Mr. Putney was 
a man of remarkable generosity and in- 
tegrity. His temperament was strongly 
religious, impelling him to officiate pub- 
licly in the school house close to his 
home. From this fact it is probable he 
received the universal title of k, Elder." 
Upon the death of his wife be abandon- 
ed public hospitalities. He died Sept. 20, 
1846. aged 93. He was a soldier of the 

The first public house in Contoocook 
stood on the site of Curtis & Stevens's 
present store, which is a part of the ori- 
ginal structure, since remodeled. At 
first there was a plain, one-storied, un- 
gainly building opened to the public b}- 
Daniel Page. When the later Central 
House was first projected the idea of the 
necessity of competition first entered in- 
to the mind of the proprietor of the old 
hotel, and an extra story was added. 
Not far trom this time Mr. Page sold out 
the stand to his sister Susan, afterwards 
the wife of Simeon Tyler, who lived in 
the district known as Tyler's Bridge. 
Miss Page was sadly unfortunate in the 
ultimate of her proprietorship. She sold 
the house for railroad stock and lost it 
all. The stand ceased to be open to the 
public about the year 1S34. 

The second hotel built in this village 
was erected in the autumn of the year 
1831. b}* Messrs. Sleeper <fc Wheeler. 
Both landlords were young men. The 
enterprise did not flourish in their hands, 
and in about a year the property went 
into the hands of Mr. Herrrick Putnam, 
who kept the doors open for about a 
dozen years. Mr. Putnam was followed 
by Mr. Rufus Fuller, ot Bradford, who 
conducted the establishment till about 
twelve years later, when he died. For 
years the place was kept by Henry 
Fuller, son of Rufus, and afterwards by 
Mr. Walcot Blodget, son-in law of the 
older Mr. Fuller. It changed hands 
frequently till 1872 when it fell into the 
pos=ession of Col. E. C. Bailey, who 



kept it open till 1S7S, when he tore it 
down and erected just east of 
it "he present hotefe 

The Putney House in Hopkinton vil 
lage was built to supply the place of the 
Perkins House, burnt in 1S72. In the 
summer of that year Mr. Geo. G. Bailey 
determined to make Hopkinton village 
a place of residence, bought the old 
Isaac Long place and fitted it up for the 
convenience of his family during the hot 
months. A year or two after, he pur- 
chased the old Dr. "Wells house, adjoin- 
ing the Long place, moved it back, es- 
tablished connection between the two, 
and made the present Putney House, a 
nice and convenient hotel in a pleasant 
shady spot. The structure includes two 
stories with a Mansard roof. The com- 
plete establishment has a front exten- 
sion of 125 feet and a rear one of 190. 
Siuce the erection of this house an ele- 
gant hall, a bowling alley and other ad- 
ditions have been constructed. 

The old Parker Pearson stand at 
"Stumpl'ield'' and French's Tavern, now 
burned, on the Basset Mill road, at 
•'Sugar Hill," were instances of smaller 
countrj- establishments for the accom- 
modation of the traveling public. 


A little over a quarter of a century 
ago a stranger came to Contoocook, and 
lectured in the small hall in the rear 
projection of the Contoocook House, in 
the attempt to illustrate the feasibility of 
steam locomotion. He had a small en- 
gine, for which he laid a narrow track 
across the hall, and actually conveyed 
himself back and forth to the observa- 
tion of the interested audience. Heads 
were shaken when he predicted that in 
twenty years freight would be brought 
to this vi llage by steam power plying 

the rails. Yet in less time the prophecy 
became true. The Concord ct Claremont 
Raftroad" was projected'; Lhc line passed 
through Contoocook, from which there 
was also a branch line to Hillsborough 
Bridge. In the early fall of the year 
1S50 the cars began to run regularly 
to this village. A day of great festivity 
was held. The railroad officials extend- 
ed the favor of a free ride to and from 
the city of Concord. The proffered cour- 
tesy was accepted by a large company, 
filling a long train. 

The people of Contoocook determined 
to be liberal in furnishing the festivities. 
A subscription was raised, a public din- 
ner provided, music and artillery secur- 
ed. About one thousand persons sat 
down to eat. The food was set upon a 
row of tables at the station, a shed hav- 
ing been erected for their accommoda- 
tion. About fifteen members of the 
Warner artillery came with a gun and 
music to do the military honors. The 
gun was posted on the intervale on the 
north side of the river just below the 
railroad bridge, towards which spot a 
signal was given when to fire. Speeches 
were made, the baud played, the can- 
non thundered. It was indeed a gala 
occasion. The pecuniary expense of the 
dinner eaten on this occasion amounted 
to 8200. 

Many citizens of Contoocook, as well 
as others of the town, paid dearly for 
their enthusiasm and enjoyment. Assess- 
ments on primitive stock did the work. 
To get rid of the personal liabilities 
many threw up their whole interests, in 
some instances amounting to thousands 
of dollars. Yet the public benefits 
afforded by railroad facilities have been 
entirelj' incalculable. 

MIRON"." 76 

MIR 02?.' 


[This poem, written for the occasion, was read at the recent silver wedding of " Miron," (Myron 
J. Bazeltine), well known in the world of chess, at his beautiful home known as " The Larches," in 
ihe town of -Thornton. It was published in a New York paper, hut is worthy of republication 
in the Ghastik Monthly. The author, Miss Spalding of Haverhill, is a young lady of line liter- 
:irv talent, whose productions have been much admired.] 

In other realms, where kings and queens bear sway. 

Their subjects have no will but to obey : 

To every mandate, howsoe'er uujust. 

They bow in silence — since, forsooth, they must! 

But lo ! a change in our progressive land — 

We see a man who can all kings command; 

Queens move submissive at his sovereign will, 

The moss-grown castles far beyond the sea 
For ages yet to come unmoved may be; 
The ivy clambers o'er the turrets high. 
The arches echo as in years goue by ; 
But this enchanter of the modern times 
Brings back the wonders of Arabian climes, 
Takes up the Castles as •* a little thing,'* 
And moves them without aid from lamp or ring. 
The knights of old. mounted on prancing steed. 
Who fearless sought each brave and daring deed. 
Bowed only to the will of lady fair- 
No other ruler would they deign to bear ; 
Behold the change! these craven, soulless men 
Retreat, advance, and then retreat again ; 
The lightest touch, the softest, swiftest word. 
Holds them in check as soon as it is heard. 

Bishops, who in the sacred chancel stand, 
Arrayed in flowing surplice, gown and band. 
While at their feet a kneeling, prayerful crowd, 
In true devotion, to the earth is bowed. 
Aside their litany and prayer-book la} r — 
One " not in orders'' they at last obe}-; 
Across the checkered path they move with speed, 
And neither ritual nor canon heed. 

Not often do the gods such power bestow 

On common mortals in the world below; 

To hold at will, through all its changing scenes 

Pawns, Knights and Castles, Bishops. Kings and Queens. 

But, lest this privilege should foster pride, 

To share the honors and the spoils divide, 

They also sent a ,; help-meet," skilled no less 

In realms of poesy and fields of Ches?. 


And now, upon this merry, festal day. 
The silver milfsione >>f fcbe earthward way. 
I, too. would add my wishes most sincere, 
For richer blessings in each coming year; 
And when the ** game of life'' at last is done. 
Each foeman vanquished and each victory won, 
May these dear friends, resigning earthly things. 
Be crowned with glorv by the " King of Kings." 

[From the Report upon Forrestry, Department of Agriculture, for 1S77.] 

The whole State was originally cov- 
ered with a dense forest growth, the prin- 
cipal kinds of timber being pines, 
spruces, oaks, and hickories, beech, 
chestnut, white, red and sugar maples, 
butternut, birches, elm, white and black 
ashes, basswood. and poplars. A strik- 
ing contrast is shown in the aspect of 
the northern and southern portions of 
the State, caused by differences of tem- 
perature due to altitude, the transition 
being gradual, some species becoming 
scarce, and finally disappearing, while 
others first appearing in small numbers 

ed maple. Of these the white spruce and 
arbor-vita? have the most limited range. 
The former is abundant about Connecti- 
cut Lake, but occurs rarely, if at all. 
South of Colebrook. The latter ( Thnja 
Occidentalis), is also common in this sec- 
tion, extending south to the vicinity of 
the White Mountains, and i» also occa- 
sionally found in highland swamps far- 
ther south. 

The pine famil5 r forms the most impor- 
tant feature of the landscape, and has 
been an important source of wealth to 
the State. The white pine originally 

increase as we go north or south until filled all the river valleys with a heavy 

they may become the prevailing kinds. 
A few species occur throughout the en- 
tire State. A line drawn from North 
Conway to Lake Winnipiseogee. and 
from thence to Hanover, would some- 
what distinctly divide the northern from 
the southern types. This transition area 
would be at an elevation of about GOO 
feet above tide, corresponding with the 
annual mean of 45°, or of 20° in winter 
and 65° in the summer months. 

Among the species characteristic of the 
more southern type, which here find 
their northern limit may be mentioned 
the chestnut, white oak. spoon-wood or 
mountain laurel, and frost-grape. The 
range of pines and walnuts, of white or 
river maple, red oak and hemlock, is also 

growth, extending along that of the Con- 
necticut to the northern boundary. This 
growth has now nearly disappeared be- 
fore the lumberman's ax, but the great 
abundance of saplings in the southern 
part of the State shows that this species 
is still the principal conifer of that sec- 
tion. Passing northward into Coos Coun- 
ty, we find the white pine much restricted 
in area, occurring mostly at the headwa- 
ters of the streams, and mainlj' confined 
to the first-growth specimens, saplings 
being of rare occurrence, even where the 
land is allowed to return to forest after 

The pitch and red pines are of more 
limited range, the former (P. rigida) oc- 
curring most along the sandy plains and 

mainly southern. The more character- drift knolls of the river vallevs. scarcely 

istic trees of the northern class are the growing on hills that attain much eleva- 

sugar-maple, beech, balsam-fir, black tion above the sea level. It is found 

and white spruce, and arbor-vita?, and of most abundantly in the southeastern 

smaller trees the mountain ash and strip- part of the State, and in the Merrimack 



Valley and around Lakes Winnipiseogee 
Ossipee, exteadmg northward as far 
a North Conn-ay. In the Connecticut 
\ ./thy it appears less abundantly." ^The 
r , .f piue (P. rcsinosa), often called '" Nor- 
a-ay pine," "is the most social of the 
I [oe genus." occurring in groups of from 
a few individuals to groves containing 
M>veml acres. Although much less com- 
i ion, its range is about the same as that 
of the pitch-pine, probabl}' attaining a 
higher elevation above the sea level, 
i liis species is of handsome and rapid 
growth, and is well worthy of being 
plantedffor ornament. 

In the White Mountain region the bal- 
wm-fir and black spruce, growing to- 
gether in about equai numbers, give to 
the scenery one of its peculiar features. 
The> are the last of the arborescent veg- 
etation to yield to the increased cold and 
fierce winds' of the higher summits. 
North of these mountains, the arbor- 
vita- forms the predominant evergreen, 
mingled with the white spruce about 
Connecticut Lake. In the southern part 
they are mostly confined to the high- 
lands between the Merrimack and Con- 
necticut Rivers, the black spruce being 
most abundant. , 

The hemlock is common in the south- 
ern part of the State, ranging most abun- 
dantly around the base of the Rocky 
Mountains, southward along the high- 
lands, becoming less near the coast. Its 
northern limit is in the vicinity of Cole- 
brook and Umbagog Lake, reaching an 
elevation of 1.200 feet above tide. 

The tamarack does not enter largely 
into the flora of New Hampshire, being 
chiefly confined to swamps of small ex- 
lent, and ranges along the highlands 
from Massachusetts to north of the 
N hite Mountains. The red cedar is 
Chiefly limited to the sea-shore. The 
juniper is sometimes troublesome by 
overspreading hilly pastures. The Amer- 
ican yew is often present in cold-land 

1 he maples are best represented among 
deciduous trees. The river maple is most 
limited in range, being confined to inter- 
vales of the principal streams, and rare- 
fy far away from them. The red maple 
to common in all parts of the State, and 

the sugar-maple is abundant, filling an 
important j&art in the economy of the 
State, supplying both timber and sugar. 
It is common in most parts, but less to- 
wards the sea-coast. This with the beech 
makes up tne greater part of the hard 
woods of Coos County. Southward the 
beech is common on high lands only, 
often growing with spruce and hemlock. 

Four species of birch are common, of 
which the black, j-ellow and canoe birch- 
es have about the same range as the red 
maple. The canoe or paper birch grows 
high up the sides of mountains. The 
fourth and smallest, the white birch, is 
most abundant in the southeast part of 
the State, affording the " gray-birch 
hoop-poles " used in the manufacture of 

Five or six species of oaks are found, 
of which the hardiest is the red oak. 
Although the only species found along 
the water-shed between the Merrimack 
and Connecticut, it does not extend much 
beyond the White Mountains, having its 
upper limit at about 1000 feet above the 
sea. The white and yellow oaks usually 
appear together, on the plains and hill- 
sides along the rivers. The former ex- 
tends northward in the Connecticut Val- 
ley nearly to the mouth of the Passump- 
sic, in the Merrimack Valley to Ply- 
mouth, and in the eastern part of the 
State to the vicinity of Ossipee Lake. 
Its limit in altitude is about 500 feet 
above the sea. which is also very nearly 
that of the frost-grape. The barren or 
shrub oak is abundant on the pine plains 
of the Lower Merrimack Valley, thence 
extending eastward to the coast, and to 
the sandy plains of Madison and Con- 
way. The chestnut oak seems to be 
local in this State; at Amherst and West 
Ossipee it can be found abundantly. 

The chestnut is found in the same situ- 
ations as the white oak, but the chestnut 
*s the first to reach its limit of altitude, 
which is about 100 feet above the sea. 
It occurs in a few localities about Lake 
Winnipiseogee at a somewhat greater 
height, the neighborhood of the lake pro- 
ducing less severity of temperature than 
the river valleys at the same altitude. 

The American elm attains probably the 
largest size of any deciduous trees. It 



grows best in alluvial soil, and is the 
most extensively planted for shade and 
ornament of all trees:, unless, perhaps, 
the sugar-maple. 

Butternuts also prefer the borders of 
streams, and in the valley of the Pemi- 
gewasset extend northward to the base 
of the mountains. Hickories are most 
common in the Lower Merrimack Val- 
ley, the shell-bark extending northward 
to the vicinity of Lake Winnipiseogee. 
Basswood is found mostly on the high- 
lands, but is not very common. The 
black cherry is found throughout the 
State, usually most common near 
streams. Two species of poplar are com- 
mon ; the first a small tree, very common 
ill light soil, and often springing in great 
abundance where woodland has been 
cleared away. The other, the black pop- 
lar, may be a large tree. 

The Hon. Levi Bartlett of New Hamp- 
shire has given in the result of his expe- 
rience, an interesting illustration of the 
profits that might be realized from tree- 
planting in this State, covering a period 
of about fifty years. A tract had been 
cleared and thoroughly burned over in a 
very dry season, about the year 1S00. It 
immediately seeded itself with white and 
Norway pines, and about twenty-five 
years after came into his possession. He 
at once thinned out the growth on about 
two acres, taking over half of the small- 
esttrees. the fuel much more than paying 
the expense of clearing oft. Fre m that 
time nothing was done with the lot for 
the next twenty-rive years— having sold 
, it, however, during that time. Upon ex- 
amining it he found that, by a careful es- 
timate, the lot which had been thinned 
was worth at least a third more per acre 
than the rest which had been left. It 
was worth at that time at least -S100 an 
acre. He thought that had the land 
been judiciously thinned yearly, enough 
would have been obtained to have paid • 
the taxes and interest on the purchase. 

above the cost of cutting and crowing 
out. besides brin°ri:;ir the whole fcrset up 
to the value oi the two acres which had 
been thinned out. At the time when 
this part was thinned (twenty-five years 
from the seed) he took a few of the tall- 
est, about eight inches on the stump, and 
forty to fifty feet high, and beared on 
one side for rafters for a shed. Ar the 
next twenty-five years (fifty from the 
seed) he and the owner estima:f J that 
the trees left on the two acres would av- 
erage six or eight feet apart. They were 
mostly Norway pioe; ten to -wenty 
inches in diameter, and eighty to s hun- 
dred feet high. He was greatly sur- 
prised, seven or eight years after, to see 
the increase of growth, especially the 
two acres thinned thirty years before. 
The own*r had done nothing, except oc- 
casionally cutting a few dead trees. It 
was now the opinion of both thai the 
portion thinned out was worth twice as 
much as the other: not. however, that 
there was twice the amount of w»x>d on 
the thinned portion, but from the extra 
size and length of the trees, and their en- 
hanced value for boards, logs anid tim- 
ber. There were hundreds of Norway 
and white pines that could be hewed 
or sawed into square timber, from forty 
to fifty feet in leu^h. suitable for the 
frames of large house?, barns and other 
buildings. There were some dead trees 
on the two acres thinned at an early day, 
but they were only small trees shaded 
out by the large ones. On the part left 
to nature's thinning there was a vastly 
greater number of dead trees — many of 
them fallen and nearly worthless. Of 
the dead trees standing, cords mfght be 
cut. well dried, and excellent tor fuel. 
Estimates were made that this woodland 
would yield 350 cords of wood, or 150.- 
000 feet of lumber per acre. Allowing 
that these were too large, the real 
amount must have brought a very large 
profit on the investment. 





U-. these days of aesthetic raving- over 
fterytbing old it surprises me that old 
tlies receive so little attention. I do 
sot mean worn out garments, fit only for 
- second-hand clothing shop, the rag- 
l>tg or the beggar at your door, but the 
partially disused adornments and habits 
that you wear on rainy days, when you 
know that no callers can venture forth, 
■ r that you pack in your cedar chest as 
bi Ing capable of further use by some fu- 
l re " making over." These superannu- 

"1 servitors of a deposed queen of fash- 
ion are irresistibly fascinating to me by 
n ason of their garrulity. 

I am by nature a quiet body, and by 
it r ess of worldly circumstances an* un- 
l raveled one, but I have my failings as 
well as the best, and indulge them when 
1 can. My especial weakness is a par- 
t!"tiable fondness for that sort of gossip 
known as reminiscences, and happily for 
me I learned long ago that by bringing 
my imagination into active play I could 
gratify my small whim without mental 
labor or pecuniary outlay. 

There is a cedar-lined closet and chest 
I know of, the contents of which have 
cabled me to travel from the Golden 
fJate to u far Cathay," and revel in op- 
• r», balls, college life, and '• love's young 
tfream." I have crossed the Atlantic by 
Ufaply sitting quietly before an old 
rough serge dress. It is rugged and tired- 
looking, for it has made four sea voy- 
^''" ; . As I open the door of the closet 
-here it hangs, a strong, fresh, salt air 
wins to blow in my face; I hear the 
wash of the waves; I feel the breeze on 
my chock. Shining sand from the bay 
of Naples shakes from the ruffles fringed 
by long tramps over Scotch hills. A 
ll ^rk stain on the front is a rivulet of 
' '"■' '»■ spilled by a clumsy waiter in aGer- 
man concert garden. By the trailing, 
dejected braid hangs a tale of a dark, 

foggy night on her Britannic Majesty's 
Channel steamer; a surging sea, a dizzy 
head, an impertinent nail, and " 'Ere we 
are at Dover, mem, at last." 

In the dimmest corner of this same 
closet hangs a battered, faded dressing- 
gown. The elbows and quilted scarlet 
silk cuff's of this once luxurious, gay gar- 
ment are sadly dilapidated, as if the 
wearer had spent his college days lean- 
ing out his window on folded arms. In 
one of the deep pockets is a smoking-cap 
embroidered in a fanciful pattern with 
tarnished gold braid. In another there 
is a dainty, scented billet-doux, a bit of 
blue ribbon, a meerschaum case, a son- 
net in halting Latin, and a pair of small 
primrose-colored gloves. The hands 
that wore the gloves and wrought the 
cap to cover a lover's brown curls are 
folded in that sleep that knows no wak- 
ing, and the college boy. who, years 
ago, held the little gloves to his lips, sits 
by a lonely fireside in a far-off' land. 

But my chief delight is in a cedar 
chest. There I hear again and again a 
love story that will never grow uninter- 
esting. ' Tis simply a pearl-gray velvet 
hat with sweeping pluine and pale blush 
roses that babbles to me so deliciously. 
The bud of a girl who wore this saucy 
hat is now a bloomiug matron, but how 
beautiful she looked as she came down 
the stairs with it on twenty years ago. 
The young man impatiently awaiting 
her said involuntarily, " Fresh-blown 
roses washed with dew." Indeed, she 
must have been a vision of rare loveli- 
ness — the pure young face, the soft 
brown hair, the dreaming eyes. k ' So 
sweet, so daintily sweet and dear," he 
thought. I fear neither of them heard 
the opera that evening. They heard in- 
stead love's beguiling overture and the 
music of each other's unspoken words. 
Toor old hat ! You were tossed care- 



lessly aside soon after that- to give place 
to bridal flowers, but your roses are still 
^■iintly blushing in rn^iuoivof 
they guarded that night — what kiss so 
perfect as a kiss sub rosa? 

In a corner, almost hidden from my 
prying eyes, is a pair of tiny red shoes. 
The restless feet that once pattered about 
in them are lightly keeping time, in high- 
heeled French absurdities, to the witch- 
ing strains of a Strauss waltz. Helen and 
her brother Tom wonder why their an- 
cient aunt will romance over their cast- 
off habiliments, and scoff good-natured- 
ly, and ask me to give my opinion of a 
new bit of Limoges with no earthly asso- 
ciation in which I have an interest. 
Now Tom's ••Knickerbockers*' amuse me 
vastly more than a Satsuma or Nankin 
cup. They have patched knees, and bits 
of string, chipped marbles, crumbling 
chalk, and all the olla podrida a boy usu- 
ally carries, are still in the much-abused 
pockets, Tom half blushes as I shake 
out these childish garments, and says, 
" It's deuced queer that you should keep 
such baby things ; " but he adds compas,- 
sionately, " women are such romantic 

Yes, he is a mighty senior now; he 
carries a cane, smokes many and strong 
Havanas, whistles " Fair Harvard," and 
considers himself altogether too manly 
and practical to see a story in his old 
" small clothes.'" but in his heart of 
hearts I know he wishes he were, if only 
for a day, a Knickerbockered boy again, 
climbing trees, playing for " keeps," 
and going nightly to confess all his 
naughty acts to his mother. He has out- 
grown these things, bnt however much 
he scoffs. I know the sturdy little knee 
breeches have stirred sweet and bitter 
memories in his heart even more deeply 
than iu that ot the " goose." 

Ah! hush! Here, folded tenderly in 
fine linen, is an epic bound in blue and 

gold. It is a lieutenant's coat. The gilt 
braid is dull ; the eagles on the few re- 
njaMjjii« buttons arc burciy discernible. 
I read with filling eyes this sad, grand 
poem. The poor faded coat lies before 
me, a mute, blind Homer. I close my 
eyes, and I hear the roar and din of can- 
non, the whistling of bullets, the tramp- 
ing and snorting of horses, the groans of 
the dying. The hero who proudly wore 
this is dead, shot through the heart. 
Here on the breast is a dark stain where 
his life blood flowed away. Ah! how it. 
moans out the solemn, terrible tragedy 
of those awful years of carnage! 

And now, O, scoffer, can you speak 
lightly of old clothes? Why, here is a 
white silk whose slim waist has been en- 
circled by the arm of the fair-haired 
Duke — no, no, I'll forbear, and will not 
be-as eloquent as I can. lest your unac- 
customed mind lose itself in the mazes of 
my fancy. 

But let me give you a word of advice. 
Be not too eager to put aside old gar- 
ments. There is a certain air of respec- 
tability and refinement about an old but 
well preserved dress that gives the wear- 
er an enviable individuality and impor- 
tance. A dress that has traveled and 
seen the world — how much to be pre- 
ferred to a garment ostentatiously new. 
that has. perhaps, a vulgar, shop odor. 
New clothes are so pretentious, so push- 
ing, so grasping. But my prophetic 
eyes see coming the golden age for old 
clothes, for I know a maiden who has 
dared wear the same hat two winters, 
and I take heart of hope and smile deti- 
antl}* on the man who jovially offers to 
take all your old clothes and give you a 
very small red Bohemian (?) glass rose. 
I say to him, k * My good Othello, your 
occupation will soon be gone, for we are 
growing wise in our day and genera- 




A well-worn path across the field — 

Round barley-lot and through the corn — 
Here showing clearly, there concealed 
By drooping grass, at dewy morn ! 

The older people walked straight through, 
But many curves our young feet knew! 

Out through the barn for just one glance 

At swallows flitting to and fro — 
At queer black heads, with look askance, 
From out mud nests, at us below — 
For just one tumble on the hay, 
Then ofl. through back-doors, on our way! 

Down by the stone-heap, framed around 

By raspb'ry bushes young and old. 
Just there, beneath a rock, we found 
A whole ant city in the mould ! 
*Twas but a step outside the way — 
We'd not been there for one whole day! 

Then over yonder, by the ledge, 

The blueb'ry bush that stood alone 
Seemed wooing us with offered pledge „ 

Of berries ripe and fully grown; 
And close beside, in grassy rest, 
We found a tiny chip-bird's nest. 

We reached the style — a pleasant place 

Beneath a spreading maple tree— 
And there we tarried long to trace 
The wayward night of bird and bee, 
Or watched the chipmunk rise and fall, 
Darting adown the pasture wall. 

The pasture bars — too wide and high 

For little fingers to undo — 
But many crevices were nigh 
Where little forms could kt sidle " through ! 
Beyond, the orchard, darkly green, 
While " cat-tail " flags grew rank between ! 


The garden gate — the garden gate ! 

O, we could never pass it by ! 
There holly heck? rose tall aiid straight, 
And sweet red roses charmed the eye; 
There currant bushes, all aglow 
With ripening fruit, were in a row. 

And just beyond the low stone wall — 
No sweeter music e'er was known — 
We heard a brooklet's tinkling fall 
Along each moss-enveloped stone. 
We followed on. for well we knew 
Where fragrant beds of pep'mint grew ! 

The house was reached ! Agleam with red 

The cherry trees stood round the door; 
And scolding robins, overhead, 
Fluttered and reveled in the store! 
While noisy thumps of grandma's loom 
Came sounding from the ,% open room." 

'Twas long ago— O, long ago — 

That we went bounding o'er the way; 
We have grown sober-faced and know 
Of many changes since that day; 
But Mem'ry picture's all so plain 
We seem to live it o'er again. 



the professional teacher. w ho teaches between the day of gradua- 

We boldly assert, while in the belief tion and the day of marriage; who 

that it will provoke discussion, that the groans, whines and complains; whohes- 

most important person in every commu- itatingly accepts a school to oblige the 

nity, to the community, is the profes- committee; who is an aristocratic snob, 

sional teacher. That a good many worn- with not even the pride of family wealth 

en, as well as men, succeed as teachers behind; who drags a weary body through 

in public schools, seminaries, academies the drudgery of the day because of the 

and colleges, who would be useless to the dollars and cents it puts in an empty 

world in any other calling is true, and purse; who has no higher motive than 

that the ideal teacher, whom we con- the belief that it is an eminently respect- 

ceive, i3 in a large degree a myth, is also able way of earning broadcloth, silk and 

true. Moreover we desire it understood ribbons, with which to dazzle the igno- 

in the outset that what little we have to rant and cause the thoughtful to suggest 

say concerning this necessary public ser- that there must have been a good deal of 

vant does not include that ever present pinching to accomplish such a show; 

individual who has no heart in the work, who snaps, snarls and vexes the pupils, 



and shows a decided partiality to those 
of itiei* neighborhood or church : who — 
but the outs are too numerous to mention. 
We liave nothing to do with this teacher 
in considering the genuine, the ideal 

The teacher we have in mind loves the 
occupation, has titted expressly for it. is 
appointed of God. is ambitious to succeed 
and devotes energy and all attainable 
knowledge to the work, is not troubled 
with day and night dreams of fortunes 
that are to be won in mercantile marts; 
is not disturbed by ignorant public senti- 
ment ; has no jealousies to avenge; no 
fancied wrongs to set right, and no "axes 
to grind"' or bosom friends to favor at the 
expense of some worthier persons inal- 
ienable privileges. The ideal teacher has 
the best balanced mind in the communi- 
ty; never spends valuable time in dis- 
cussing pet ideas and isms; never crip- 
ples usefulness by too great a familiarity 
with'the affairs of town, city or parish; 
does not dabble or mix in politics ; is not 
a bigot in creed or a self-appointed theo- 
logian whose .business it is to impress 
upon the youthful minds the certainty of 
future punishment as a cure for insignifi- 
cant shortcomings. The ideal teacher 
has a religious faith as simple as child- 
hood, as sweet as the rose, as fragrant as 
the incense from the holy Catholic altar, 
as pure as the ritual of the Episcopalian, 
as fixed as orthodoxy, that is infinitely 
beyond the comprehension of narrow 
sectarianism, that sees and recognizes 
God and goodness in everything, that 
patterns life after bright examples, and 
realizes that the impressions of the school- 
room are more enduring upon the mind 
of the youth than all else, and have far 
greater weight in molding future desti- 

Of what shall be taught from books, 
and of the precise method of teaching we 
have nothing to say. There has been a 
revolution in such matters since our 
time, and we are not therefore familiar 
with the routine of studies, or competent 
to express an opinion that the public is 
bound to respect. We have a conception, 
however, of what the ideal teacher 
should be. The ideal teacher recognizes 

the great responsibility of the calling. 
and is ever on guard against uneven de- 
portnient, pecviijiiueso, Lmpoiifctme'S'S by 
word, look or gesture, selfishness, fash- 
ion-plate conceit, lawlessness, deception. 
theft of time for private purposes, and 
a thousand and one little irregularities of 
conduct that young people observe and 
magnify to the destruction of a symmet- 
rical character. The ideal teacher is nev- 
er in violent temper; can inflict great- 
er punisnment by kind words fitly spo- 
ken than with a hickory switch, can 
command the respect of pupils in school 
and out of school alike, and is the friend 
above all friends to whom application is 
made for counsel when the troubles of 
childhood are tormenting the mind. In 
short, the ideal teacher — ^ly teacher !' 
as the pupil who is satisfied says with 
enthusiasm — conducts the youthful aspi- 
rant for the honors and emoluments of 
life to the great door of the world and 
says, practically, %, I leave you here, hav- 
ing done the best for you that it is possi- 
ble to do. You understand the beauty 
of piety, the necessity of honesty, the 
grandeur of purity, and the obstacles be- 
tween you and complete success. Let 
all the ends you aim at be honorable. 
You know what is expected of you. Act 
well your part, there all the honor lies. 
You have my blessing. Go and be use- 
ful in the world.'' 

Let us admit that although there are 
but few ideal teachers, there are some 
who are all the fancy pictures, and we 
honor thern. The calling of the teacher 
is the most important, and to our mind, 
the most Honorable — to the individual 
who enters it in the right spirit and with 
the right motives— that is known among 
men. It towers above all others, it guar- 
antees greater peace of mind, is of more 
real dignity— the dignity that fathers and 
mothers respect — and grants greater sat- 
isfaction than any other profession. The 
affairs of the world, — except in momen- 
tous epochs,— its hurry, worry and con- 
fusion, its ' ups and downs,' its price cur- 
rents, sensations, and the failures that 
bankrupt men in purse and reputation, 
need not enter his philosophy or vex his 
mind. He may live on a plain high above 



all worldly bickerings and strife; he 
may be comparatively free from sin, and, 
if he will, eminently respectably hope- 
ful of the life that is and is to come, with- 
out making any considerable effort as 
compared with those mortals, who, by 
force of circumstances over which they 
have no control, are compelled to diekcr, 
trade and associate with the rabble. 


The preacher of to-day is deciedly un- 
like the preacher of the past. To many 
this is undoubtedly a matter of regret 
and lamentation. It is nevertheless a 
fixed reality, the sequel of which is ob- 
viously in the fact that the sources of ed- 
ucation have increased and the masses 
thereby advanced to the point where the 
utterances of the most profound thinker 
are subjected to the rigid examination of 
a multitude of men of equal intelligence 
and argumentative ability. Time and in- 
stitutions of learning have wrought won- 
derful changes, and instead of the sim- 
ple, unquestioning faith of the lathers 
there is a spirit of determined inquiry — 
not to say doubt; a disposition to inves- 
tigate, to ignore acceptance simply be- 
cause the Rev. Mr. So-and-so says so. 
This being in a large degree the animus 
of the public mind, the minister who ser- 
monizes the year round on themes that 
provoke discussion, loses his hold on his 
hearers; while the minister who is anx- 
ous mainly to impress the beauty of the 
Christian religion — whose concern is that 
men shall live better, think holier, study 
the amelioration of humanity, and feel 
more of love to God and man, aud take 
more interest in deeds of charity and 
mercy than in discussing Adam's fall — 
comes nearer the wants of the people and 
the mission which the masses of this gen- 
eration are content to hear and espouse. 
Those who accept the latter as the ideal 
find two classes of ministers. 

1. The first is cold and formal. He 
comes to you like an apparition from a 
refrigerator. His ' good morning' and 
'good evening' freezes the blood of the 
individval to whom it is addressed, and 
the mind quickly suggests that he should 
walk in the sunlight an hour at morning 
and evening before coming into the pres- 

ence of men. He addresses his acquaint- 
ance emphatically as ' Mister,' and never 
ejuU^t^vK.b to smile d uc cheerful. The 
average sinner is ill at ease in Ids com- 
pany and gets the impression th,i r . there 
is no happiness here; that all of joy and 
good fellowship is k way over there some- 
where,' and it is a wicked sin to be so- 
ciable, comfortable and companionable, 
till he get there. Men who are in trouble 
do not seek this sort of a clergyman. 
They shun him and scold about him. 

2. The second is warm and frarernal. 
There is uo formality in his greeting, no 
ice in his hand with which to chill the 
blood, no suggestion that it is a sin to be 
happy, no indication that he would like 
to give somebody a theological nut to 
crack, no mannerism that asserts * I'm 
holier than thou.' He has evidently left 
his creed — which doesn't amount to much 
anyhow — in his study, put aside his ser- 
mon paper, and started out with a view 
of dispensing and receiving just as much 
of good fellowship as can be convenient- 
ly crowded into an hour. He enters into 
conversation on the things that concern 
the daily life, and, feeling that he is ac- 
corded privileges that men will not grant 
the multitude, drops a word in one place 
and a remark in another, that lightens 
burdens and leaves those whom he has 
met more contented with their surround- 
ings. In short this much is observable. 
k The minister who mingles with the peo- 
ple and participates in their joys and sor- 
rows, discovers their need, and is enabled 
to preach directly at them, while the min- 
ister who stands aloof preaches over 
their heads and leaves only the impres- 
sion that religion-is a gloomy article that 
belongs to sick people and those who 
have no further pleasure in the world.' 

The first mistrusts a thorn in every 
bush, and the wicked one as manager of 
all public amusements. He is a sort of 
parish monitor; a censor whose behest 
everybody is bound to obey. He vents 
his spleen on things that are none of his 
concern, orders straight jackets for per- 
sons who are abundantly able to govern 
themselves, and never omits an opportu- 
nity to exhibit his spite against the Ma- 
sonic body and Odd Fellowship. The 



second sees roses where the other discov- 
ered thorns; does not live in fear of be- 
ing spirited away by the evil genius'-; is 
satisfied that on general principles the 
world is not so bad as some would like to 
make it appear, and that by the exercise 
of a little judgment and discrimination 
it is possible to be pretty cheerful for the 
most part of the journey from the cradle 
to the grave. When the first speaks on 
the questions at issue in this paragraph, 
he offends and shows that his vision is 
exceedingly narrow; his estimate of the 
wants of the multitude and what it will 
have, whether or no, considered from the 
wrong standpoint, and his knowledge of 
the secret institutions painfully out of 
keeping with the facts. The votaries 
of the former deny him the poverty of 
thanks, while the patrons of the latter 
close their lips and way down in their 
hearts pit}- his weakness. When the sec- 
ond speaks he shows that he has rubbed 
against the people of the world, knows 
what they want and what they cannot be 
prevented from obtaining, and is deter- 
mined to so educate and refiue the mass- 
es that good taste shall prevail and the 
very things which' the first condemned 
become a power for good. He is a warm- 
hearted brother with the men who meet 
in secret conclaves, and. like Father Tay- 
lor of blessed memory, and many anoth- 
er eminent minister to guilty men. he 
counts it no sin and no shame to kneel 
with them and beseech God to bless and 
continue them in fraternal fellowship and 
in the faithful service that men are likely 
to need at their hands. The first avoids 
the crowd as he would the plague, and 
the latter is always seeking admittance 
to places where men congregate, and he 
will tell 3'ou that he is always welcome; 
that men grasp him warmly by the hand ; 
that the class who have something mean 
to do and therefore repel the minister, is 
small, very small, so small indeed, that 
he never blundered into their company. 


But why do we speak of the profession 

of the minister as second to that of the 
teachers in public schools and other in- 
stitutions of learning? Let us be un- 
derstood as saying, * we do not place this 

exalted office second because of any pre- 
conceived purpose to underate it. but 
simply on the ground that ).{■;■ opportuni- 
ty, in our judgment, is second — the com- 
petent and conscientious teacher being 
first to impress the mind with those prin- 
ciples and examples which mould the 
character and are most lasting. But we 
had purposed to conclude this theme with 
a summary of some of the observations 
we would make to young men concern- 
ing the ministry: — 

They, the candidates, must have spe- 
cial training in addition to that of the 
college and theological school ; they must 
possess traits of character unlike the 
multitude, and it will not profit this gen- 
eration if they are deep in books and 
nothing in * common with everyday life.' 
They must understand human nature and 
have the proper methods of approaching 
widely different minds, else all their ef- 
forts will miscarry, and they will be the 
constant recipient of rebuffs that will rob 
them of their peace of mind and make 
their life short and of little service to 
their fellow men. They must be a con- 
noisseur in the art of knowing just what 
to say and how and when to say it, for — 
although they may think otherwise — this 
is one of the great secrets, in fact the 
only secret, of the successful man in all 
professions. They must have a good con- 
stitution — for it is a well known fact that 
a sickly minister preaches sickly ser- 
mons, and sickly sermons are not what a 
healthy people will naturally be satisfied 
with. Sentiment may satisfy those of a 
congregation who are at that interesting 
period of human affairs when cupid is 
the controlling medium, but it will never 
do for the old folks who pay the bills. 
They will cry out that it is veal, and be- 
come hungry for something that is large- 
ly made up of practical common sense. 
They must make up their minds to be dil- 
igent workers ; to submit to privations; 
to be subjected to occasional persecu- 
tions ; to be a servant rather than a mas- 
ter; to endure all sorts of trials of their 
own and for others; to be cheerful when 
overworked, and of even deportment 
when afflicted with the ills that flesh is 
heir to. They must expect to meet with 



obstinacies in men who profess better 
things ; to be unfavorably criticised by 
chose who should overlook their short- 
comings; to be, in short, a public man 
who has no time to devote to his own 
whims and fancies. Should a young man 
enter this profession he will discover 
strange things regarding human nature, 
and will often have his faith in men and 
women put to the severest-test. 

The young thinkers of this generation 
will learn, as they develop and discover 
the ways and manners of this wicked 
world, that * all is not gold that glitters;' 
that if a minister is bold of speech and 
progressive — If he speak right to the 
point on the sins and shortcomings that 
are nearest the doors of his parishioners 
— he is in danger of empty pews and a 
hint from a certain clique that his useful- 
ness is greatl}* impaired. They will also 
learn that if these things are not men- 
tioned, another offensive clique will cir- 
culate the idea that he is a coward, and 
trie? to suit everybody ; if he unhesitat- 
ingly presents his views on political 
questions which concern the public weal 
—and concerning which every right- 
minded citizen should be gratified for in- 
formation suck as only an observing stu- 
dent can impart — he is in danger of be- 
ing deiisively mentioned as the k political 
parson* — ' a weak-minded minister turn- 
ed ignorant statesman;' if he fails, to 
speak, to sound the alarm, to endeavor 
to persuade men what is right and what 
God would have them do in the premises, 
he is berated as a man who halts between 
two opinions or sympathizes on the wrong 
side of the question at issue. If he fail 
to warn his people against the evil — a de- 
creasing evil I am rejoiced to say — of in- 
temperance, he i6 accused of being the 
bosom friend of therumseller, of having 
rumsellers in his congregation, of taking 
their ill-gotten gains for the advancement 
of the cause of religion. It', on the oth- 
er hand, he earnestly and consistently 
advocates the cause of temperance and 
all moral and legal means to crush the 
demon that seeks the ruin of mankind, 
he is said to be lacking in good judgment 
and detracting from the peace and amia- 
bility of thecoinmunity, and, sometimes. 


is invited to ' step down and out.* If he 
confines himself closely to the tenets of 
che gospel, he is an old fogy, and the 
people cry out for a modern preacher ; if 
he fail to draw a full congregation, he is 
in trouble with the trustees of his society ; 
if he visits Deacon Brown's family once 
oftener than he does Deacon Smith's, he 
is partial; if he is a little reserved and 
the madams of the parish cannot have 
their own way, he is made a target for 
town talk ; if he is not all things to all 
men. and all women, he is not social; if 
he is all things to all men and women, he 
is double.faced. 

They will learn that the times have 
changed, and this profession is not. as 
we hinted in the beginning, what it was 
in the eighteenth century. Free think- 
ers; free speakers and advanced ideas, 
together with thoughtlessness and frivol- 
ity, the elements of doubt and uncertain- 
ty, and the desire to be the most fashion- 
able church in town or city — regardless 
of pointing to the cross and salvation, 
and being humble examples of the better 
way of living — have demoralized the oc- 
cupants of the pews and thereby inflict- 
ed erroneous impressions on the non- 
churehman's mind. They will under- 
stand, therefore, that the clergyman's 
life has come to be one of trial and long 
suffering; that patience, forbearance and 
brotherly love will not prevail except 
through the well directed efforts of a 
well balanced mind, and the exercises of 
a discretionary diplomany such as few 
men possess. We would not, however, 
attempt to persuade any man, who feels 
that he has a mission to perform, to en- 
ter another field. Brave and conscien- 
tious men are wanted, and we bid all can- 
didates God's speed and a just reward. 
Our only caution is * be sure you enter 
with the right motive and with a right 
understanding.' Do not enter with the 
idea that it is an easy w#y of earning 
your living, because of a desire for 
wealth, or in the belief that it is to be to 
you a life free from annoyances. It lias 
its hardships and its trials; its triumphs 
and its rewards. It has its perplexities 
such as few men can satisfactorily mas- 
ter; its burdensome crosses, and its dark 


gloom}*, and desponding hours, which 
nothing but a consecrated life can with- 
stand. We are therefore persuaded mac 
he who enters here should pause and con- 
sider his way. 


The third useful profession— and we are 
not sure that it is not the first and most 
important to the human family — is that 
of the physician and surgeon. The more 
we contemplate this profession the more 
we honor it, and the longer we live the 
greater is our respect for ninety-nine in 
every hundred of the men that are in it. 
"We have observed, and it cannot be that 
we are alone in our observation, that 
there is no class of men in this commu- 
nity that go about their business with the 
quiet demeanor that marks the true phy- 
sician. He meddles little in public mat- 
ters, and he seldom pauses to tell long 
stories. He is generally a model man, 
and there, is an honor about him that no 
other profession possesses. He never re- 
marks unkindly of a rival, nor does he 
by word or conduct inform the mind of 
the rabble with explanation or insinua- 
tion of the ^delicate cases of disease or 
surgery which he has been called to treat. 
His lips are sealed; his tongue is silent, 
and we sometimes wonder whether or no 
he has been conducted into the deep re- 
cesses of some gloom}' dungeon, and 
amidst suggestive surroundings and op- 
pressive silence, taken upon himself a 
more solemn obligation to secrecy and 
circumspection than any society on earth 
can boast. 

The graduated physician and surgeon • 
is a good and true man. To his skill, to 
his knowledge, to his honor, men and 
women implicitly commit themselves. 
Are we disposed to complain of his char- 
ges, a moment's reflection convinces us 
that an awful responsibility is his. Are 
we inclined to doubt his coming at our 
call, the second thought reveals the fact 
that in his faithfulness — we speak now of 
ninety-and-nine in a hundred — he out- 
ranks the world ; for. be it recorded to 
his praise, he responds to the wail of dis- 
tress whether it be in the heat of a high- 
twelve summer sun or the low-twelve of 
the cold, gloom and darkness of winter, 



and that, too. in innumerable cases where 
he knows there is to be no compensation, 
in him we confide vw:en the days are 
dark, the nights long, the pain almost 
unendurable; when hope is but a faint 
ray, when dear ones are in danger, when 
distress is upon us. Let him who can 
cry out k unfaithful!' The physician has 
little time of his own, and little time for 
speculations in which other men indulge. 
His average comfort — as other men see 
comfort— is in the main a myth. He is 
everybody's servant. He is in the man- 
sion at one hour and the cottage the next, 
and his profession knows no distinction — 
his teaching and practice no favoritism. 
Both obtain the best service he can ren- 
der, and it often occurs that the cottage 
obtains a discount in his charges. 

We have observed that the world would 
be in a terribly bad way were it other- 
wise, and hence we take occasion to say 
that we have no sympathy with that mis- 
taken zeal— as it appears to our under- 
standing — which in any way tends to 
weaken the esteem in which all right- 
minded men and women must of neces- 
sity hold them. We have no desire, 
however, to discuss public measures in 
this article, and so we pause and pass to 
the consideration of other professions, 


The man who "puts out his sign" in 
this profession must bean individual who 
has a well-balanced head, and is * thick 
skinned' in the matter of public abuse. 
There are a good many people, and they 
are, usually those who are two-thirds of 
the time in a scrape, who cannot com- 
mand adjectives sufficiently expressive to 
speak his condemnation. He may be as 
honest, as conscientious and as pious as 
any man in the community, and yet there 
are those who consider and proclaim him 
a pirate. That he lives and thrives large- 
ly by other men's misfortunes and mis- 
understandings; that his fees for servi- 
ces rendered are generally live times 
what they ought to be, is true; but that 
he is worse than the average of his fellow 
men is not true. We have observed, how- 
ever, that men who are never so happy 
as when they are * head over heels ' in a 
law suit — and there are a good many such 



— are riot entitled to a great amount of 
sympathy, and we opine that they should 
not complain bitterly about lawyers. 
Those people who have no scrapes, who 
do not trespass on their neighbors, who, 
if their neighbors trespass upon them 
are not angered to revenge, or i mad.' 
past becoming pleased, and in a condi- 
tion of mind that forgives all the world 
at evening prayer, should not complain, 
except perhaps, when they aspire to of- 
fice of honor, trust or profit, and find an 
attorney and counsellor at law ready to 
fill the bill to their exclusion. But we 
are not kiudly disposed, enthusiastically 
speaking, towards lawyers, and there- 
fore cannot be expected to give them the 
character we award to a profestional 
teacher or clergyman. There is a good 
deal about the profession that we do not 
like. Lawyers are clanish. They ; tickle* 
and ' feed' each other, and are ; deaf, 
dumb and blind ' to the pockets of other 
professions. To use a slang phrase. 
1 they know too much ' for men who are 
Dot burdened so heavily with knowledge 
as by cheek; but. inasmuch as we have 
no purpose or desire to offend, we will 
not particularlize. Suffice it to be said 
that it is our observation and experience 
that a barrister can serve God and Mam- 
mon more successfully than the multi- 
tude. His is not, however, as bad as the 
average mind pictures him, and even 
among our friends and acquaintance there 
are worthy and houorable exceptions 
from the rule that marks the profession 
as one to be dodged by that man who 
hopes to live a life acceptable to himself 
and the community. 


In this profession there is less money 
and more trouble and torment to the 
mind and body than all others combined. 
The journalist serves a wicked and per- 
verse generation, and sees more of the 
shams and meanness of men than any of 
his compeers. He is bounded on all sides 
by critics, and is every day making the 
acquaintance of idiots, who, with more 
cheek than brains, flatter themselves that 
they — who have spent their lives in some 
other calling— are more competent in the 
matter of editing a newspaper than he 


who has devoted a quarter of a century 
to the profession. He is annoyed by ig- 
norauee that assumes intelligence, and if 
he avoids a discussion on some issue that 
in his judgment is in the interest of an 
individual rather than the public, it is 
hinted that he has been bought ; if he 
denounces evil and unfairness he is med- 
dlesome and malicious; if a free puff is 
denied he is mean; if a free puiY is giv- 
en, the person who receives it thinks he 
has only obtained what he is entitled to 
because of his great merit, and some- 
times he comes around to find fault be- 
cause it was not stated a good deal strong- 
er; if he pursues a course in politics that 
he believes most advantageous for patri- 
otic and party ends, the men who should 
give support turn their noses in condem- 
nation. A journalist is expected to de- 
nounce, politically, his best friend, and 
to compliment a party man, politically 
again, and that, too, when the 'denounc- 
ing and complimenting' is of no more 
consequence to him as an individual than 
a copy of a last year's almanac. He is 
expected to praise everything-be it good, 
bad or indifferent, professional or ama- 
teur—and he is certain that the man of 
whom he is compelled, in order to main- 
tain his equilibrium before the public, to 
speak censorious, will curse him, even 
though the same individual has been fa- 
vorably mentioned in his newspaper wri- 
tings ninety-nine times, for which the 
-person thus complimented has never be- 
stowed the poverty of his thanks. And 
then, if he is a live journalist, he is al- 
ways writing and publishing something 
that some pious soul does not like, and 
is receiving calls from good people who 
want their neighbor shown up. and a 
promise that he will not mention the 
source of his information. He is both- 
ered by typographical errors, assailed by 
his political opponent, hated by those 
who have cases in the criminal court, an- 
noyed by those who are not reported ev- 
ery time they open their mouths, and in 
danger of a club or law suit from some 
one whose merit is not appreciated. In 
short, the journalist is a victim of men's 
spleen, and he must be a man of temper 
like a dove, and a constitution like an ox. 



or make his arrangements to be with the 
-vis at forty. 


F>oth are professions — we guess— and 
both are to be given the 'cut direct' by 
all men who have made up their miuds 
that salvation, at the end of life, is desi- 
rable. Not that all will be ' lost,' but 
that the ' chances ' are nine out of ten in 
favor of it. The ' professor of polities' 
needs no special notice in New Hamp- 
shire. He is an ever present individual, 
and what he don't know — unless he is 
mightily mistaken, and he never will ad- 
mit as much — no magazine writer can 
tell. The professor of the art of gamb- 
ling — for that is what constitutes a sport- 
ing man's career — may be briefly men- 
tioned. His ways are devious, dark and 
damning. He is the jackal of society 
that does more mischief than the church 
can counteract. He seeks the ruin of the 
body, the peace of mind and the soul of 
his victim, and, alas, too often accom- 
plishes his purpose. He prospers for a 
time, but the end is invariably terrible to 
contemplate. He is the abhorrence of 
all men — even those who are not particu- 
lar in morals— the culprit who gives the 
police the greatest uneasiness, the des- 
pised of the community, the forsaken of 
God, the hated and ignored of virtuous 
women. And more than all. this blear- 
eyed loafer, this would be important gen- 
tleman, knows that he is under the ban 
of society, knows that he is a reprobate, 
a fugitive from justice, a worthless being 
who preys upon men and morals. Rum 
and its n caetera ruins his health, and 
eventually— if he escapes prison, where 
he rightfully belongs— he dies, to be un- 
mourned and speedily forgotten, save by 
the victims who live to curse his memo- 
ry. This is a profession that no young 
man can contemplate with any degree of 
satisfaction, or seek to enter unless he 
has ' made up hi mind' to be useless, 
and have it said, 4 it were better had he 
never been born.' 


If there is any man in the States that 
is, and has been for several years past, 
deserving of sympathy, that man is the 
merchant, who has had his all— his ne- 

cessity of the present and his hope of old 
age — invested in 4 stock in trade.' 
Tne fall in prices on stap-ie arfeje^&s*j 
rents, which are at ' war figures,' taxes, 
which have increased rather than dimin- 
ished, and customers who do not pay 
their bills promply, if at all. have made 
his life full of trouble and anxiety. In 
fact, in ninety cases in every hundred, 
his is a daily anxiety of which the pro- 
fessional man — who enjoj'S a long sum- 
mer vacation — knows absolutely nothing 
by experience. The merchant's nerves 
are at tension the greater part of the 
time, and the multiplicity of cares with 
which he is surrounded robs him of that 
enjoyment which, in the course of human 
events, all men who labor are entitled to 
receive^ With notes becoming due, cur- 
rent expenses to meet — be the times nev- 
er so dull — he often finds himself in fine 
meshes, and enduring hardships of which 
the laboring man is entirely ignorant. 
There is, however, no necessity of 
minutely depicting the trials of the mer- 
chant, for the certainty that he is the 
man who, in these days of financial em- 
barrassment and uncertainty, ' carries 
the heavy end of the plank.' is obvious 
to those to the ' manor born.' More- 
over, those who entertain the belief that 
the merchant is the man who is in the 
majority at fashionable summer resorts, 
who spends his money the most freely, 
will, upon investigation, find themselves 
deceived. We speak for the average 
merchants, for we know that while the 
public school teacuer, the clergymen, 
lawyers and others, have opportunities 
of k rest and refreshments ' to body and 
mind, while they may sun themselves at 
morn and eve and bask in cool seclusion 
at midday, the merchant and those other 
'watchmen on the towers' — the physi- 
cian and journalist — are mired in busi- 
ness. Those, therefore, who envy the 
merchant, who imagine that he is the 
man who has the * easiest time of it,' 
who see only the millionaire picture, are 
mistaken in their estimate. They should 
keep their eyes open to obituaries like 
the following, which we clip from a cur- 
rent number of a well-known newspa- 
per : * He was for many years the sen- 



ior partner of the firm and was a pros- 
perous merchant. But adversity and ill 
health gathered over his way* Aftliot&d 
with mental disease, his last years were 
clouded, and he passed away the victim 
of care and disappointment, and the ob- 
ject of sympathy.' 


It is due that I should mention the 
merchant's clerk. The popular belief 
that his is a life free from the trials, 
temptations and perplexities of the man 
who has a trade or tills the soil is an er- 
roneous one. There is no man who is 
compelled to labor for his daily bread — 
and all men ought to be compelled to do 
diligence or go hungry — that has a more 
disagreeable task. Through summer's 
heat and winter's cold he is ■ cooped up ' 
behind a counter and is face to face all 
the day long with customers. Some of 
these customers know what belongs to 
good manners, but the greater number 
have onlj' a vague idea of 4 shopping eti- 
quette,' and are nice, polite aud aristo- 
cratic in their imagination only. This 
latter class— and we know enough of hu- 
man nature to feel confident that there is 
not a woman in America who will make 
a personal application of what is here 
truthfully said— are an unmitigated an- 
noyance, a libel on good breeding, and 
are liberally hated and emphatically de- 
spised by clerks who have no alternative 
but to shirk them upon their fellows. 
There is not a merchant's clerk of our 
acquaintance— we have no fear of con- 
tradiction — but can give the names of a 
hundred persons who are dreaded as the 
plague and dodged as a timid man would 
a dog with the hydrophobia. There are 
other trying ordeals to which clerks are 
subjected; such as dull days when there 
is nothing to do but stand around, first 
o-i one foot and then on the other, and 
wait for a storm to clear up and custom- 
ers to put in an appearance; such as 
irritable and unreasonable masters; such 
as insufficient salary to meet their ex- 
penses; such as the impossibility to ac- 
cumulate the wherewith to clothe their 
family— if they happen to be blessed 
with one— or pay their tired and need-of- 
rest wife's expenses to her country 

home; such as an inability to save a few 
dollars to pilot them through sickness 
a;'« supt'or: them m their old age. All 
these things should be considered by 
country boys who have got the merchant 
clerk maggot in their crazy heads, and 
the truth should be stated in all candor 
that not one in a hundred of those who 
go behind the counter become ' merchant; 
princes.' It has been our observation 
that when a business man wants a part- 
ner, or is compelled to promote some 
one, the person who ha* the preference 
is a son. brother or individual who is 
backed by money not his own and who 
comes to the establishment without ex- 
perience and with monstrous, overbear 
ing and presuming airs, while the faith- 
ful clerk, who has spent his strength to 
build up the business, is snubbed, and. 
if the times be a little dull, so that he can 
not readily find employment elsewhere, 
is cut down in the matter of salary be- 
cause the expense of the concern has be- 
come greater than the income. These are 
facts that admit of no cavil, and there- 
fore we say to every young man who is 
about to become a participant in the 
struggle for place, consider well the sit- 
uation. Do not despise the lessons of 
the experienced or imagine that you are 
so much smarter than others that you 
will escape their grievances, for it is not 
so much in the possibility of success now 
as it has been in the past. 


Concerning the mechanic, whether he 
be first, second or third class, much may 
be said. Were we to speak at length it 
would be with great respect and sympa- 
thy, for we realize that he is indispensa- 
ble to the world, that much of the pros- 
perity of the people depends upon him, 
that by his inventions he has conferred 
blessings that cannot well be estimated, 
and that just now he is, in consequence 
of the general depression of business, a 
victim of low wages and in most cases 
has a hard chance in the matter of ob- 
taining employment and supporting his 
family. To discourage young men from 
learning a trade is a responsibility — even 
with a full knowledge of the times and 
the belief that low wages are to contin- 


,ue— that but few men would care to 
take, and hence we must dodge the sub- 
ject with the commonplace remark that 
• we hope the times will be better, that 
they will soon be enabled to earn the 
honest dollar of their daddies and be re- 
lieved. from the annoyances and embar- 
rassments which now surround them.' 


Those who have read this article to 
this caption will not expect * sound ad- 
vice' from us in this paragraph, and al- 
though we should chance to * hit the ex- 
act truth,' would be slow to acknowledge 
it. We will therefore be brief. That 
farming is hard work is an indisputable 
fact. That farmers have cares and anxi- 
eties we will admit. But farming has. 
to a large degree, been reduced to a sci- 
ence, and the man who uses the intelli- 
gence which is easily obtained succeeds 
better than those in professions and nu- 
merous pther callings, and although he 
may not have so much ready mone}-. he 
has that which answers the same great 
purpose and which is about all the mul- 
titude can hope for at any time, viz.: 
'the creature comforts.' He is also, as 
a rule, free from embarrassments; is sub- 
ject to no man's caprice; is in no fear of 
a sheriff; can have a holiday now and 
then without losing his pay: and it he is 
a willing man in the 4 seasous,' may 



place his family beyond the pinching and 
worryment that come to those who are 
depeuutmt upon * quick ' or glutted ' 
markets. All these possibilities, with 
many other advantages — such as distance 
from the temptations of the grog-shop, 
the society of dead-beats and loafers, 
the familiarities of vice, and animosities 
and jealousies — are less, and why, in 
view of all that has been said and writ- 
ten, there is such an unsolved problem 
as ' How shall we keep our young people 
upcn the farms?' is beyond our compre- 
hension. We note, however, that multi- 
tudes of mechanics, traders and others 
have become disgusted with the tread- 
mill of their chosen callings and com- 
pelled to acknowledge from the ' book of 
experience ' that the most reliable feeder 
of the family is the soil, and the farmer 
who ' means business ' quite as honora- 
ble and more profitable than the average. 
Therefore, young men, consider well 
your situation and your opportunity. 
Let your l air castles ' in which wealth 
abounds be but the dream in the dark. 
Let your judgment master the situation. 
Consider that there are more applicants 
than places, more blanks than prizes, and 
if you have a gloomy outlook, stick, make 
it bright, and by your grit and industry 
make it pay. 



The writer of this sketch was. in 1853 
and 1854, a mechanic, working in Ilop- 
kinton. In his frequent visits to the 
stores and post-office he was accustomed 
to meet the students of old Hopkinton 
Academy, with Greek and Latin books, 
an algebra or geometry in their hands, 
which they were supposed to be study- 
ing. Subsequent developments have 
Shown that, in some cases, there was no. 
fact in the supposition. But at that time 
the}' seemed to the writer to be of anoth- 


er order of beings. Some of them have 
since become such — eminently. And the 
supposed ecstacy of their employment, 
and profundity of their learning, excited 
ambitions and aspirations which he then 
had no means of gratifying or promot- 

The teacher at that time was Prof. 
Dyer H. Sanborn. To get him from 
Tubus Union at Washington was thoughD 
by the trustees and townsmen a consid- 
erable acquisition. His fame had pre- 



ceded him, and was probably at -that 
time at its climax, and extensive. An 
unusual advent ot students from abroad 
was anticipated and realized. So many 
pupils, it was said, (the writer does not 
speak from data or personal knowledge) 
had not attended that institution at one 
time for many years, as did attend it 
during Prof. Sanborn's preceptorate; 

ferent times relations to interests widely i 
diverse and unrelated. His influence 
with the young ol both sexes was marked 
and unusual. For full fifty years he was 
an instructor of youth, and at the time 
he laid down the ferule had had perhaps 
a greater number under his tuition than 
any other man in the State. For a gen- 
eration at least his name was familiar to 

and it is doubtful if so many ever did in the people, and the positions he filled. 

any one term afterward. 

As the writer was walking home one 
evening he was accosted by the Profes- 
sor, to whom he had never before spoken. 
The popular teacher made enquiry in an 
easy and kindly way as to the opportu- 
nities, position and antecedents of the 
boy mechanic, and learning that the me- 
chanic was not altogether content to re- 
main as he was, gave him some encour- 
aging words, advised him about his 
reading, and was the first man who ever 
showed to him the possibility of pursu- 
ing those studies toward which he had 
looked with longing eyes afar off. 

The acquaintance thus begun by the 
condescension of the Professor was by 
him encouraged and improved, and 
eventually ripened into a closer and 
more intimate friendship than often ex- 

if not eminent, were at least not incon- 
spicuous in public affairs. His personal 
acquaintance was vast beyond any enu- 
meration. And yet, so far as the writer 
is aware, no connected history of the la- 
borious services rendered by this man, 
or the changes that marked his useful 
career, has ever been put on record. 

Of the facts herein brought together 
some were obtained from an obituary in 
a Serainar\- paper printed at Tilton, some 
from his brother. Prof. E. D. Sanborn of 
of Dartmouth College, some froju an ex- 
amination of catalogues, registers, ma- 
sonic proceedings, school reports and 
other documents, and many were com- 
municated by the gentleman himself in 
the latter years of his life. He has 
served his generation and his record is 
on high. These scanty and partial mem- 
ists between two of such disparity of oranda may also serve to preserve some 

years. In the days of his activity many 
men doubtless enjoyed his confidence, 
and thoroughly knew him in the various 
relations which he sustained to society. 
But during the years of his retirement 

knowledge and remembrance of it to the 
posterity of those who were in early 
years his pupils, and in after life his 
Dver Hook Sanborn was named for his 

at Hopkinton, the writer believes there maternal grandfather. Capt. Dyer Hook 
were few men to whom the Professor of Chichester, formerly (1760) of Kings- 
spoke, of himself, of his history, his af- ton, and one of the original proprietors 
fairs and designs, more unreservedly of Wentworth, whose daughter. Hannah, 

than to himself. 

While therefore he feels conscious that 
he thoroughly understood the man, and 
appreciated him for not more nor less 
than he actually was; and esteemed him 
more highly as he knew him more inti- 

married David E. Sanborn of Gilmanton, 
and became the mother of three sons 
who rose to distinction. Of the father, 
David E.. and of the Hon. John S., his 
youngest son, a slight account is given 
in the sketch of Prof. Edwin D., Grax- 

inately than the generality of his towns- ite Monthly, I, 289. 

men; he confesses himself disqualified, 
by the very circumstances, from attempt- 
ing an impartial analysis of his charac- 
ter and acquirements. 

But Professor Sanborn's life was busy 
and fruitful, his talents versatile and va- 
riously employed. He sustained at dif- 

Dyer H. was born in Gilmanton, 29 
July, 1799: and died in Hopkinton, 14 
January, 1671. Brought up on his fa- 
ther's farm, which was a mile square, he 
was early engaged in the rural pursuits 
common to the life of a fanner's boy at 
that period. But having an active and 


enquiring mind, and being of a feeble 
constitution, be turned bis attention to 
study anu prepared for college at Gil* 
ma-niton Academy, but for some reason 
o-ave up tbe intention of going to college 
"and never entered. 

At tbe age of seventeen he commenced 
teaching and taught winter schools for 
about ten years, in Pittsrield, Deerlield, 
Gilmantou, Wiscasset, Me., and Ames- 
bury, Mass., working on a farm sum- 
mers. He had in the mean time mar- 
ried and had bought a place in Gilmantou 
which he carried on, and served some 
time as a captain of militia. He then 
removed to Lynn, Mass., and engaged 
in teaching as a profession. While there 
he commenced and pursued a course of 
medical studies, and it is believed he re- 
ceived the degree of M, D. ; but he nev- 
er practiced medicine. 

In 1S2S he removed to Marblebead. 
where he taught for several years. 
Returning to Xew Hampshire he became 
principal of the Academy at Sanbornton 
Square, and prepared for the press an 
4i Analytical Grammar of the English 
Language." In its construction he used 
many of the definitions which had been 
employed in the Grammar of John L. 
Parkhurst, published in 1820, for which 
purpose he purchased and held the copy- 
right of Parkhurst's Grammar; but 
gave that gentleman credit for all he 
used, with scrupulous care. His Analyt- 
h al Grammar was first printed at Con- 
cord, in 1836. The sale of the first edi- 
tion was rapid, and in 1839 it was revised 
and stereotyped. In 1846 it had gone 
through eight editions. 

In 1S33 he received from Waterville 
College, and in 1841 from Dartmouth 
College, the honorary degree of Master 
of Arts. 

He also taught at Sanbornton Bridge, 
now Tilton, and became Professor of 
Mathematics and of the Xatural and In- 
tellectual Sciences in the Xew Hamp- 
shire Conference Seminary, which was 
then located on the Northfield side of the 
river. While in this position he formed 
classes for normal instruction, and pub- 
lished an abridgment of his larger work 
under the form and title of " Sanborn's 

AXBORX, A.M. 93 

Xormal School Grammar," Concord. 
1846, which passed through eight edi- 
tions in five yearsybeirtg extensively usesd 
in certain sections of Xew Hampshire, 
and probably in other states, till super- 
ceded b} T Weld's. In this appeared the 
well-known grammatical rnyme, com- 

A noun's the name of any thing, 
'. As ball, or garden, hoop or swing, 

of which he claimed to be the original 

At what time tbe writer is not aware, 
but thinks it was while connected with 
this institution, Professor Sanborn re- 
ceived ordination and became a local 
preacher in the Methodist Episcopal 
Church. He never took an appointment, 
or belonged to conference, but he often 
supplied vacant pulpits, in his own and 
other denominations, and married a great 
number of people, particularly among 
his former pupils. 

In 1848 he left Sanbornton and was 
principal of Andover Academy one year, 
when he became principal of Tubbs Un- 
ion Academy. Washington, and was ap- 
pointed School Commissioner of Sulli- 
van County in 1850, serving two years. 
He also represented Washington in the 
Constitutional Convention in 1S51. 

With the fall terra of 1853 he entered 
upon his duties as principal of the Hop- 
kinton Academy. Of his popularity at 
that time, and of the success of the 
school under his administration, mention 
has already been made. He purchased 
a small place in Hopkinton village which 
was henceforth his residence during his 
life. This he took a great delight in 
adorning and improving, and paid par- 
ticular attention to the cultivation of the 
best varieties of grapes, pears and ap- 

Having long been a personal friend and 
political associate of Franklin Pierce, he 
was offered and accepted a clerkship in the 
Treasury Department at Washington, un- 
der that gentleman's administration, and 
entered upon his duties in 1855. In 1857 
and 1858 he taught a select school in Pitts- 
field; but receiving the appointment of 
postmaster of Hopkinton in 1859, in 
place of Joseph Stan wood, deceased, he 



never taught any except private pupils 
afterward. He continued in the office 
until his death, and was for many yelirs 
also superintendent oi me town schools. 

After retiring from the active duties of 
his profession his former pupils gave him 
a complimentary reception and benefit, 
with an elaborate dinner, and literary 
exercises adapted to the occasion, and as 
a testimonial of their good faith they 
presented him a purse of several hun- 
dred dollars. 

In Freemasonry he was a Knight Tem- 
plar, and was a chaplain of the Grand 
Lodge of New Hampshire from 1S49 to 
1856. He held for main' years a commis- 
sion of Justice of the Peace and Quo- 
rum throughout the State, and did con- 
siderable justice business. Before the 
war of the Rebellion he affiliated with 
the Democratic party ; but during and 

after that war with the Republican. 

Professor Sanborn published, besides 
the books abuv«: . , M.;nf<l. "-* A Geographi- 
cal Manual.*' 185G, and "School Mot- 
toes, " 1S5S. He was a frequent contrib- 
utor to the JV. H. Journal of Education* 
while published, and for various periodi- 
cals in and out of the state. He collect- 
ed with great labor materials for a his- 
tory of the Sanborn Family, a portion of 
which he edited and prepared for the 
press, but did not live to complete the 

About two years before his decease he 
experienced a partial paralysis, severely 
effecting one side, from which he never 
fully recovered ; and although his exit 
was not unexpected, his final illness was 
very brief. His second wife survives 
him, but by neither wife left he any is- 



I can but trust in God 
And rest within His arms, 

Whether I lie beneath the sod 
Or face life's wild alarms. 

In Him is all my joy; 

In Him is all my peace; 
I work in His employ. 

And at His bidding cease. 

He doetb all things well, 

He loveth every soul; 
All things His goodness tell 

And His supreme control. 

Father of life and light! 

Being all-wise and kind! 
Oh, give me clearer sight 

Who am so weak and blind. 

Let me not faint and fail 
Before the close of day, 

Oh, let not doubts assail 
The heart that owns Thy sway. 

And when my work is done, 
And I am gathered home, 

How bright will be the sun ! 
How sweet a voice say — Come ! 




[This sketch, from the pen of the historian of Berwtck and Somersworth, will be, we believe of 
sufficient interest to our readers dwelling' in the eastern section of the state, as well as to all interest- 
ed in Indian history, to warrant its republication in the Granite Monthly.] 

Bowles, a noted Sagamore of Newich- sligo shore was his small and rudely cul- 

awannoek. during its early settlement by tivated cornfield; around him was a 

the English, had his" domieil on the dense forest filled with game ; near his 

easterly side of Che river near Quamphea- dwelling were several small moulded 

gen falls. All the Indians from the up- hills irrigated by pure, gushing springs, 

per waters of the Xewichawannock to upon whose summit there clustered lus- 

the sea were his subjects, though he was 
under the great Passaconway. His sub- 
jects had been greatly diminished by the 
fearful plague that had flapped its ma- 
larious wings along the New England 
coast, a few years before permanent set- 
tlement had been made in Xewichawan- 

He possessed the gift of prophesy and 
predicted to the early settlers the im- 
pending bloody conflicts between the 
Indian and white man. He said "' at first 
the Indian will kill many and prevail but 
after a few years they will be great suf- 
ferers and finally be rooted out and de- 

The dwelling place of Howies upon 
the banks of the Xewichawannock was 
well chosen for sustenance and pictur- 
esque beauty. It was at the head of tide 
water; the upper waters were not then 
as now yarded up to be daily parceled 
out and harnessed to a ponderous mech- 
anism and ladened with the filth of fac- 
tories and street sewers, but it flowed 

cious grapes and sweet and nourishing 
nuts. At his fireside could be heard the 
gurgling waters of Assabumbadoc as 
they fell through the craggy chasm into 
the fathomless pool. 

If he turned to the rising sun he saw 
old Agamenticus sitting upon the rim 
of the ocean, the pulpit of the 
Great Spirit, where their traditions 
taught them He came down/ioncealed in 
the great storm cloud to watch the angry 
moods of the ocean. If he turned to the 
setting sun he saw towering above the 
forest, draped in hazy veils, the long 
chain of mountains that brace up the 
valley of the Merrimack, the home of 
Passaconaway, his great lord and mas- 

" Who could change the seared and yellow leaf 
To bright and living green." 

Ferdinando Gorges had by royal favor 
obtained a charter of all the land in the 
western part of Maine, where he hoped 
to build up an empire for his prosperity. 
He founded the Agamenticus plantation 

freely from the crystal lakes, dancing in 1623 : within its limit3 was Xewicha- 

and laughing through the high mossy 
gorges to the tide water. In their sea- 
son, countless salmon and migratory fish 
sported in its crystal waters on their 
passage to its upper sources; an hour in 
his light canoe upon a receding tide 

wannock. He sent over scores and hun- 
dreds of tenants and servants. Some 
having no taste for agriculture were early 
attracted by the excellent timber that 
grew upon the banks of the Xewicha- 
wannock and its wonderful facilities for 

would take him to the broad Piscataqua the manufacture and transportation of 

which the early explorers found so lumber. 

crowded with delicious fish that they In 1643 Humphrey Chadbourne. for a 

named it Piscataqua (fish water). pittance, purchased the homestead of 

Near the soft green meadows on the Rowles, the land on which the village of 



South Berwick now stands. Seven years 
later Gov. Godfrey and council granted 
to Richard Leaders. Assabumbadoc Tails 
and adjacent lands. Dams and mills 
were erected there, and at Quampheagen 
and Salmon Falls. The forests melted 
away, the game disappeared and migra- 
tory fish could no longer ascend the 
river. Every means on which Howies 
and- his people had relied for support had 
"been swept awa} r . 

In 1670, rive years before the com- 
mencement of the Indian wars, Rowles 
being bedridden with age and sickness, 
complained of the great neglect with 
which he had been treated by the English. 
At length he sent a messenger to some 
ol the principal men of Newichawan- 
nock to make him a visit. He told them 
" he was loaded with years and that he 
expected a visit in his infirmities from 
those who were now tenants on the land 
of his fathers. Though all of these plan- 
tations are of right my children's, I am 
forced in this age of evil, humbly to re- 
quest a few hundred acres of land to be 
marked out and recorded for them upon 
the town books as a public act, so that 
when I am gone they will not be perish- 
ing beggars in the pleasant places of 
their birth." 

This modest request of the dying 
Howies was deemed of sufficient im- 
portance to be attested to by Major 
Waldron and others, but it was never 
granted. Rowles passed away beyond 
the setting sun, leaving no inheritance 
for his children in the places of their 

His son and successor, Blind Will — 
who received that name from having lost 
one eye — regarding the premonitory 
counsel of his father with sacred respect, 
at the commencement of the King Phil- 

lip war, about 1675, he entered the Eng- 
lish service where he remained two 
y-'ars, or u;;;il his death. Although 
sometimes distrusted by his comrades 
because he had a red skin he always 
proved himself loyal to the English and 
is spoken of by the early historians as a 
Sagamore of note and ability. He be- 
came the trusted friend of Maj. Waldron, 
accompanied him on various expeditions 
against the Indians and acted as pilot in 
the expedition to Ossipee lakes. 

After the English made an alliance 
with the " Mohawks " against the 
Eastern tribes, strange Indians were re- 
ported to be in the vicinity of Cochecho. 
Maj. Waldron sent Blind Will with a 
company to ascertain who they were. 
The "Mohawks 1 ' mistaking them for en- 
emies rushed upon them and only three 
escaped. Blind Will was dragged away 
by his hair and perished in the woods at 
the confluence of the Isinglass and Cho- 
checho rivers in the south-west part of 
Rochester, a short distance above the 
line between Rochester and Dover. 
This location still bears the name of 
" Blind Will's Neck," and the old inhab- 
itants in that locality will point out the 
spot where he was buried, and some of 
them insist that they have heard his 
" war-whoop " as they pass it with their 
teams in the midnight hour. Few of the 
subjects of Rowles remained long in the 
valley of the Xewichawannock after his 
death. A century ago one had his home 
on the banks of Worster's river, near the 
Xewichawannock, by the name of Sun- 
set, a suggestive name. He was buried 
in an unmarked grave in the old Wors- 
ter burying ground and not a ray of twi- 
light from the departed race lingers in 
the pleasant places of their birth. 





¥ ' 



An i^i-ir.-oiB«iikNo'jp to Boston 





.NOVEMBER, 1878. 

NO. 4, 


Passing up the romantic valley of the 
Merrimack, that queen of Xew England 
rivers, the nursing mother of our great- 
est industries as well as the brightest 
adornment of our most beautiful land- 
scapes, the traveler observes, when near- 
ly midway between Hooksett and Sun- 
cook, upon the table-land, commanding 
an extensive view of the valley in either 
direction, an elegant and spacious brick 
mansion which seldom fails to attract 
more than mere passing notice. It is 
indeed one of the finest country resi- 
dences in Xew England, the elegance 
as well as the substantial comfort and 
convenience of its interior appointments 
fully bearing out the promise of its ex- 
terior. This mansion is the residence of 
one of Xew Hampshire's self-made men 
— men who through the avocations of 
manual labor and the stirring discipline 
of business life have won their way to 
competence and honor — commanding the 
confidence of their fellow citizens as 
manifested in their elevation through the 
suffrages of the people to positions of 
trust and responsibility. 

Here lives Gen. Xatt Head, whom the 
people of Xew Hampshire at the recent 
election — the first holden under the 
amended constitution — selected for their 
chief magistrate for the term of two 
years from June next. 

Gen. Head is a descendant of Xathan- 
iel Head, who, with his brother John, 
came from Wales to America and set- 
tled in Bradford, Mass., but subsequent- 
ly removed to Pembroke in this State. 
He had three sons, Xathaniel, James and 
Richard. The former was the grand- 
father of the subject of our sketch. In 
the history of Chester, by Benjamin 
Chase, it is related of him that in his 
youth he paid his addresses to a young 
lady of Scotch-Irish descent named 
Knox, a daughter of one of the leading 
families of the town. Between these 
families there was a feeling of hostility. 
While driving the cattle in the field for 
his father one day the old gentleman 
asked young Xathaniel if he intended to 
marry that Irish girl. i; Yes, father," 
was the reply. " Then understand," 
said he, " you can never share in my 
property." '* Very well," said the youth, 
;i I will take care of myself," and drop- 
ping his goad-stick in the furrow, he left 
the field and bis home, and went out to 
make his own way in the world. He 
served for a time in the Revolution- 
ary army and attained the rank of Cap- 
tain. Having married the young lady 
of his choice, Anna Knox, he established 
his home in a log cabin in that part of 
the old town of Chester now embraced 
in Hooksett, upon the very site now oc- 


Broome County, Iowa. He was for 
some time engaged as a contractor in the 
eon-iructioii of the X'drtii western rail- 
road, and subsequently several years 
Superintendent of the Iowa division of 


eupied by the residence of his grandson. 
He prospered in life and accumulated a 
handsome property. He was a a*&» &§ 
great energy and independence of char- 
acter, as well as sound practical judg- 
ment, and, holding the position of Jus- that road. The youngest brother, Wil- 
tice of the Peace, as well as the confi- liam F.. still resides in Hooksett, living in 
dence of the people throughout the com- a substantial residence not far from that 
munity, he became practical!}' the law- of Xatt, the two having all along been 
yer for all the surrounding region, and in partnership in the various operations 
was largely engaged in the settlement of in which they have been engaged, farm- 
disputes and the transaction of legal ing, lumbering, brick-making, contract- 
business for his neighbors and towns- ing, etc., or rather they have done busi- 
men. He had nine children, five sons ness in common, never dividing a dollar, 

and four daughter. Of these, Samuel, 
the eldest, was the proprietor of the 
celebrated u Head Tavern '" in Hooksett. 
John, the youngest of the five sons, and 
the father of the subject of our sketch, 
remained upon the homestead. He 
married, in 1791, Anna Brown, a daugh- 
ter of William Brown, a retired sea cap- 
tain, and sister of Hon. Hiram Brown, 
the first mayor of Manchester, now a 
resident of Virginia, and father of the 
wife of Hon. Isaac W. Smith of the Su- 
preme Court. He became an inlluencial 
citizen of the town, was a successful farm- 
er, and engaged in the manufacture and 
sale of lumber. He was prominent in 
the militia, and attained the rank of 
Colonel.' He died in middle life, August, 

but each using what he needed or 
pleased, the interest of the other broth- 
er and sisters having been purchased by 
Xatt when he became of age. His father 
died when Xatt was but eight years old, 
and the advantages afforded by the dis- 
trict school, supplemented by a few terms 
attendance at Pembroke Academy, fur- 
nished all the education he secured, aside 
from that obtained through discipline of 
active life, in the various departments of 
labor and of business in which he has 
been engaged, Few men in the State 
are more extensively engaged in agri- 
cultural operations, and certainly no one 
has done more to promote the. interests 
of the cause of agriculture. The Head 
farm contains some two hundred acres 

183G, leaving five children to the care of of cultivated land. upon which is cut. an- 
his widow, a woman of rare mental pow- nually. from two hundred to two bund- 

ers, and executive ability surpassing 
most men, who proved herself fully 
equal to the task of administering the 
large estate, and managing and even en- 
larging the extensive business in which 
her husband had been engaged, as well 
as rearing her children to become true 
and earnest men and women, and valua- 
ble members of society. 

Xatt Head was the eldest son, and 
third child, two sisters b^ing older and 
two brothers younger than himself. The 
eldest of the sisters married the late Col. 
Josiah Stevens, formerly of Concord, 
who died in Manchester a few years 
since; while the younger, now deceased, 
was the wife of Hall B. Emery of Pem- 
broke. The eldest of his two brothers. 
John A. Head, has resided many years 
at the West, and is now Auditor of 

red and fifty tons of hay. * Altogether, 
the brothers own some fifteen hundred 
acres of land, which includes several 
valuable tracts of timber land in other 
towns, one of COO acres lying in the town 
of Groton. 

The lumber business in which their fa- 
ther was engaged has been continued, 
fron 500,000 to 1,000,000 feet of lumber 
being manufactured annually at their 
mills. As manufacturers of brick, how- 
ever, they have attained their greatest 
celebrity, their business in this line be- 
ing the most extensive in the State, and 
the quality of their brick unsurpassed. 
This business? was commenced by their 
mother after her husband's decease, soon 
after the beginning of mill building at 
Manchester, which opened a ready mar- 
ket for vast quantities of this valuable 



building material, for the manufacture 
of which the extensive beds of superior 
clay along the river ... this potsfi 
afford superior facilities. They manu- 
facture from three to six millions of 
brick per annum, selling the same in all 
parts of Xew England. Ten millions 
were furnished by them for the construc- 
tion of the new Massachusetts State 
Prison at Concord, and several millions 
for the Lawrence Water Works. -In 
their extensive operations of farming, 
lumbering and brick-making, altogether, 
the brothers Head give constant employ- 
ment to nearly two hundred men, with 
thirty horses and several yokes of oxen, 
all of which are kept on the farm, upon 
which there are also more than a dozen 
dwellings, occupied by the families of 
those of their workmen who have been 
long in their employ. 

Aside from, or supplementary to, the 
extensive business already mentioned. 
Gen. Head has been largely engaged 
upon contracts for the construction of 
railroads and of buildings. A large por- 
tion of the work on the Suucook Val- 
ley railroad was done by him, as well as 
much upon other roads. The firm of 
Head & Dowst, contractors and builders, 
of Manchester, well known as among the 
most extensive building firms of the city, 
embraces the General and his brother, 
whose enterprise, energy, and ample re- 
sources have contributed largely to the 
success of the firm. 

Gen. Head inherited from his ancestors 
a strong taste for military affairs, which, 
with musical talents of high order, early 
led him into prominence as a military 
musician. He became leader of the 
Hooksett Brass Band at sixteen years of 
age. This, by the way. was the first 
band that ever played in the city of Man- 
chester, its first visit being on the occa- 
sion of a grand Fourth of July celebra- 
tion at Amoskeag in 1814, the first year 
of his leadership. He was subsequently, 
for a number of years, a member of the 
Manchester Cornet Band. In 1847 he be- 
came fife major in the Eleventh Eegi- 
ment of the State Militia, and served four 
years in that capacity. He was also 
chief bugler in the celebrated organiza- 

tion known as the Governor's Horse 
Guards. He has been many years an ac- 
t.ive member of the Amoskeag Veterans, 
and commanded that famous battalion 
four years, from 1SG9 to 1872, inclusive. 
He is also a member of the Ancient and 
Honorable Artillery of Bostou, and an 
honorary member of the Boston Lancers. 
In the position of Adjutant General of 
the State, to which he was appointed by 
Gov. Gilmore in 1S64, and which he held 
until 1S70. Gen. Head may truly be said 
to have won his greatest reputation, as 
well as the lasting regard of a large por- 
tion of our people, especially the soldier 
element. He came iuto the administra- 
tion of this office at a time when its du- 
ties were manifold and great, and to their 
proper fulfilment constant and varied ef- 
fort and executive ability of high order 
were absolutely essential. It is but just 
to say that he gave his best energies to 
the work of the office, and although find- 
ing its affairs in a most unsatisfactory 
and perplexing condition. bj T constant 
and persevering effort he placed the 
same in systematic order. In Waite's 
" Xew Hampshire in the Rebellion," it 
is said of Gen. Head, referring to his ad- 
ministration of this office, "that on as- 
suming its duties he found the department 
very incomplete, but little matter having 
been collected relating to the outfit of 
the troops and their achievements in the 
field, although Xew Hampshire had, up 
to that time, sent to the war twenty-six 
thousand soldiers. In fact, not a complete 
set of muster-in rolls of any regiment 
could be found in the office. In the face 
of these obstacles and discouragements, 
and with no appropriation to draw from , 
Gen. Head at once entered upon the du- 
ties of his position, employing upon his 
own responsibility three clerks, and pro- 
curing the necessary outfit of the office, 
trusting in the Legislature to reimburse 
him, which it not only promptly and 
cheerfully did, but made all additional 
appropriations for the department that 
were asked for. During the remainder 
of the war no State in the Union had a 
more faithful, efficient and popular Ad- 
jutant General than Xew Hampshire. 
The clerical duties of the office were per- 



formed in an admirable manner, and the 
method bv which the records of our sol- 
diers were persistently hunted up and 
placed on file, and the order and system 
exhibited in carrying on and preserving 
the extensive and valuable correspond- 
ence of the department were worthy of 
the highest praise." The reports of the 
department during Gen. Head's adminis- 
tration of the office are voluminous and 
complete, embracing the record of every 
officer and soldier who entered the ser- 
vice of the State during the war. with a 
sketch of the history and operations of 
each of the several regiments, and also 
embodying a complete military history 
of 'New Hampshire from the first settle- 
ment of the province to the outbreak of 
the Rebellion. The preservation and ar- 
rangement of the battle-flags of the New 
Hampshire regiments, in the rotunda of 
the State House, is one of the numerous 
evidences of Gen. Head's thoughtful care 
in the administration of this office. 

Aside from his experience in the Adju- 
tant General's office, Gen. Head has been 
considerably engaged in public affairs. 
He has served his town most efficiently 
in various official capacities, and was a 
representative therefrom in the Legisla- 
ture for the years 1SG1 and 1SG2. He was 
a candidate for the State Senate in old 
District Xo. Two, in 1875, when the fa- 
mous controversy over the spelling of 
his name upon the ballots occurred, and 
was eleeted to the Senate from that Dis- 
trict the following year, and re-elected 
in 1877, when he was chosen President 
of the Senate, and discharged the duties 
of the office acceptably and efficiently. 

For several years past the friends of 
Gen. Head in the Republican party have 
advocated his nomination as a candidate 
for Governor, and at the Convention in 
January, 1877, when Gov. Prescott was 
nominated, he received a very flattering 
vote, leading all candidates except Pres- 
cott. This fact, along with his universal 
popularity, gave his name such prestige 
before the Convention in September last, 
that, although the friends of Hon. 
Charles H. Bell made a vigorous effort, 
aided by a large proportion of the party 
press throughout the State, to secure the 

nomination of that gentleman. Gen. 
Head ws.3 nominal: * by a decMed ma- 
jority upon thelirst c allot, and. although 
on account of the third party, or so- 
called Greenback movement, tt was 
scarcely expected by his most sanguine 
friends that he would be chosen by the 
popular vote, he received a ma' ;riry of 
four hundred and eighty-eight votes over 
all, and will succeed Gov. Presco:: in the 
gubernatorial chair, if he lives untiiJune 
next. It is safe to remark in this con- 
nection that no man. not even extepting 
Gov. Prescott himseit. has ever entered 
upon the duties of the executive crk-e in 
New Hampshire with a more extensive 
acquaintance with the people, or 3 more 
intimate knowledge of their practical 
wants and requirements than Gen. Head 

He is one of the Directors of the Sun- 
cook Valley Railroad, in which enter- 
prise he was one of the active movers. 
He is also a Director of the New Hamp- 
shire Fire Insurance Company, an 3 Pres- 
ident of the China Savings Bank a: Sun- 
cook. He has been a member of the 
N. H. Historical Society for ten or twelve 
years past, and has taken a strong inter- 
est iu its work and progress. He is also 
an active member of the Manchester Art 
Association. In Free Masonry he is both 
active and prominent, being a mean her of 
Washington Lodge. Mt. Horeb P.oyal 
Arch Chapter, Ad on 5 ram Council and 
Trinity Commandery of Manchester. He 
is also a member of the Supreme Coun- 
cil, having received all the d.-grees of 
the Ancient and Accepted Scottish Rite, 
and all in the Rite of Memphis to the 
94th. He was recently made an hono- 
rary member of the "Mass Consistory 
S.n P.'. R.\ S.-. 321 Boston. ' ? He is 
also a member of the Independent Order 
of Odd Fellows, belonging to Friendship 
Lodge of Hooksett and Hildreth En- 
campment of Suncook. Aside from these 
connections, he is a member of Oriental 
Lodge. Knights of Pythias, and Alpha 
Lodge. Knights of Honor, of Manches- 
ter, and Excelsior Temple, of Concord; 
is a member of Pinnacle Lodge of Good 
Templars at Hooksett. and Mister of 
Ilooksctt Grange of the the Patrons of 



Husbandry, which organization he was 
one of the pioneers in forming. 

As L»ireciOi and President of the SfcsfB 
Agricultural Society, which latter posi- 
tion he has held constantly since 1SGS, 
Gen. Head has labored zealously to pro- 
mote the welfare of the farming iuterest 
in the State, and the success which has 
attended the annual exhibitions of the 
Society proves conclusively that his ef- 
forts have not been in vain. He origin- 
ated the movement looking to the hold- 
ing of Farmers 1 Conventions in New 
Hampshire, the first holdeu in the State, 
and we believe the first in the country, 
having been gotten up at Manchester in 
186S, mainly through his efforts and un- 
der his direction. At this meeting prom- 
inent friends of agriculture throughout 
New England and New York were pres- 
ent and made addresses, and much was 
done to give fresh impetus to agricul- 

tural progress in the State. In ISG9 he 
was appointed by the Governor and 
< "'on noil ouc of rhe Ts i$£m& of the Stare 
Agricultural College. 

Gen. Head was united in marriage. 
Nov. IS, 1SG3, with Miss Abbie M. San- 
ford of Lowell. Mass., by whom he has 
had three children, two of whom, both 
daughters— Annie twelve and Alice eight 
years of age — are living. He is now 
just fifty years of age, having been born 
May 20. 1S2S, and is in the full prime of 
his physical and mental powers. That 
he may live long, not only to enjoy the 
comforts and honors which he has won 
by his constant and varied labors and 
faithful discharge of duty, but also to 
render the State and his fellow-men 
many more years of valuable service, is 
the hope of his thousands of friends in 
all parts of the Granite State, and be- 
vond her borders. 


[The following article -was recently published as a communication in the Boston Journal. 
Since its publication the correctness of the writer's assertion has been questioned by the Man- 
chester Mirror, which paper stares that a great-granddaughter of Gen. Stark:— Mrs. X. E. Morrill 
— is now living in that city, and that she knows it to have been generally understood in ner 
childhood, th it her illustrious ancestor, whom she well remembers, was born upon the Atlantic 
Ocean during his mother's passage to this country. That his early childhood was passed in tie 
territory now known as Derry, is unquestionably true, and probably upon the spot describe.: by 
the writer.] 

Seven cities of Greece coutended for 
the honor of Homer's birthplace. More 
than half this number of towns are em- 
ulous of the honor of having given to the 
world Xew Hampshire's greatest hero. 
Londonderry, Derrytield, Derry, the 
mythical Nuffield and substantial Man- 
chester, are by various authorities as- 
signed as the place where John Stark 
first saw the light of day. Edward Ev- 
erett, in his biography of Stark, solemn- 
ly gives Nuffield as his birthplace, the 
truth being that there never was any Nut- 
field for anybody to be born in. That 
was as unreal a name as •* Molly Stark, " 
though both were properly used on oc- 

Nowa familiarity with Everett's biogra- 
phy of Gen. Stark is as much a part of a 
New Hampshire boy's education as the 
Ten Commandments and Lord's Prayer. 

Itoughtto be just as familiar to every boy 
in the whole country; but Everett, in 
that case, needs to be as correct as Scrip- 
ture itself. As now printed he certainly 
is not. A brief recital of the history of 
the naming of these different towns will 
set this matter right and clear up the con- 
confusion now existing as to the birth- 
place of Gen. Stark. There was an in- 
definite and extensive tract of land in the 
region of what is now Manchester, and 
to the southeast of it. called before it 
was settled by the whites, Nuffield, on 
account of the abundance of walnuts, 
chestnuts and butternuts which it pro- 
duced. The original settlers of London- 
derry, arriving on this tract in 1719, 
called their settlement after this famiiiar 
name; but when Stark was born, in 172S, 
a town had been incorporated, wLich 
they n amed Londonderry from their old 



home of that name in Ireland, they hav- 
ing come from Scotland through Ireland 
to America. The settlers, previous 10 
their incorporation as a town in 1722, had 
organized for mutual government and 
protection, and this organization was 
called Xutfield, but it was never a town 
for any purpose of taxation or for hold- 
ing town me'eUDgs. 

Londonderry as incorporated in 1722 
was a very much larger tract of land 
than is now covered by its territory. In 
1751 Deny held was chartered, being 
formed from parts of Londonderry and 
Chester and the whole of Hurrytown. 
In 1810 the name Derryfield was changed 
to Manchester, and in 1S16 Manchester 
became a city, parts of other towns being 
added to it afterward. In 1742 the par- 
ish of "Windham was incorporated by the 
Provincial Assembly from the territory 
of Londonderry, a part of which wss af- 
terward annexed to Salem, and the rest 
became the present town of Windham. 
A part of Hudson once belonged to Lon- 
donderry, though it is not intended here 
to narrate in full the partition of Lon- 
donderry. It is enough to add that in 
1827 Derry was set off and became a 
town by itself, and that it was in what is 
now Derry that Stark was born. Xot 
unfairly, though, can all the places 
named, and possibly more, claim some- 
thing of the prestige which properly at- 
taches to the birthplace of so distin- 
guished a character as General Stark 
proved to be. Mr. Everett needs not to 
be corrected when he says of the services 
of General Stark that they were of the 
highest character and of an importance 
not easily surpassed, those of Washing- 
ton excepted. k * by any achievements of 
any other leader in the army of the Rev- 

A visit to Derry was recently made by 
the writer, a resident of Bennington, 
Vermont, and, of course, interested in 
everything connected with the hero 
of the battle of Bennington, a short ac- 
count of which may interest the readers 
of The Journal. Through the kindness 
of the corresponding secretary of the 
old Londonderry Historical and Anti- 
quarian Society— one of those modest 

and useful societies which are doing so 
much to preserve our early history — he 
found Iiihiseif on one of these ui igui au- 
tumnal mornings, in company with a de- 
scendant of Stark, residing in Manches- 
ter, at the Windham station of the Man- 
chester and Lawrence railroad, ready to 
take conveyance to the southwestern part 
of Derry near that section of the town 
known as *' Derry Dock.*' The historic 
spot of Stark's birthplace is on the farm 
of Mr. John H. Low, and is about two 
miles from the Windham depot on a road 
running east of and parallel, or nearly 
so, with the Londonderry turnpike. It 
is a short distance, say one quarter of a 
mile, north of the crossing of the Xashua 
& Rochester Railroad, on the left side of 
the road, in a wooded nook, a secluded 
and romantic spot, facing extensive 
meadows — probably the very meadows 
where a marauding party from Massa- 
chusetts were put to route by the early 
settlers, headed by their minister, a true 
McGregor, who did no discredit on this 
occasion to the fighting ^qualities of the 
noted Highland chieftain of whose coun- 
try he was and whose name he bore. 

As these meadows were a part of the 
11 one thousand acre wildernesse farnie" 
which Massachusetts granted to her Gov. 
Leverett, inhabitants of Massachusetts 
claimed and exercised the right to mow 
them. Hence the dispute, which with the 
Scotch-Irish refugees in possession, could 
result in but one way. 

A ravine runs up from the road on 
each side of the place where the house 
stood. The site itself is plainly marked 
by the cellar walls, w T hich are almost in- 
tact. A pine tree a foot and a half in di- 
ameter grows up out of the cellar ; a large 
elm spreads its graceful branches just 
behind, and the remnants of an apple 
orchard are scattered about among the 
frequent chestnut, walnut and other 
trees which more than half cover the 
place. The house evidently faced not to 
the road but to the south. In what was 
its front is a large rock on which, after a 
survey of the spot and its. surroundings, 
we partook of a lunch provided for us by 
our host. With a wise forethought our 
antiquarian caterer had appropriately 



brought with him a cork-screw of an an- 
tique manufacture, found on the battle- 
field of Bennington, and doubtless ©nee 
the property of an officer captured or 
killed in the battle. With this he drew 
the cork from a bottle of rare old cider, 
the contents of which were even more 
appropriately offered us in a wine glass 
which once was "'Molly Stark's." We 
had read of the nectar drank at the ban- 
quettfng tables of the gods, but what 
was that to a glass of foaming Xew 
England cider— the cup that cheers but 
not inebriates — quaffed at the birthplace 
of John Stark, from a glass that once his 
own hand had filled; tilled, too, from his 
own decanter, and perhaps a decanter of 
that old Tobago rum which John Lang- 
don gave to raise funds for the Benning- 
ton campaign; or perhaps of that which 
Stark himself ordered from Charlestown, 
Number Four, as a part of his ammuni- 
tion with which he fought and won the 
Bennington victory. It will be remem- 
bered in explanation, that Stark, at 
Charlestown, on the Connecticut river, 
discovered that rum— so necessary in 
those days to any great undertaking — 
was scarce where he was going, and or- 
dered a supply to be forwarded. It was 
forwarded and used. 

The attention of the artist should be 
called to this spot, full of such historic 
interest. As there is no house upon it 

now. and as aside from its associations it 
possesses a beauty of its own, the con- 
t: .".mice of which La ihi? world of cha»a,g e 
cannot be assured, no time should be lost 
in obtaining a sketch. Its authenticity 
as the birthplace of Stark is believed to 
be beyond question. As time goes on, 
and the past recedes further and further 
from our view, the value of all such 
places identified with our early times is 
proportionately enhauced, and it is 
therefore important that their exact lo- 
cality be securely fixed, and their ap- 
pearance transferred to canvas and pre- 

We lingered about the place for a short 
time enjoying in addition to what of the ' 
past the occasion had brought us, the 
fine Indian summer day which nature 
had given us for our visit. Then, turn- 
ing away, we journeyed on through Der- 
ry, the upper village of which gave 
us a magnificent view of an 'exteude d 
prospect. Wachusett, Monadnock and 
Kearsarge. with the wide expanse of 
country between being all embraced in 
the range of vision at the same time. A 
charming day, and one longto be remem- 
bered, was ended, after parting with our 
kind host, by a short ride to Manchester, 
and by one of us, at least— to bring him 
back to the nineteenth century— a politi- 
cal meeting in the evening. CM. b. 


[This poem is from «• Light at Eventide," a paper made up of contributions from New Hamp- 
shire authors and writers of note, and published in aid of the " Home for the Aged,-' a charitable 
institution projected at Concord.] 

Of all the streams that seek the sea 

By mountain pass, or sunny lea. 

Now where is one that dares to vie • 

With clear Contoocook. swift and shy? 

Monadnock's child, of snow drifts born, 

The snows of many a winter morn, 

And many a midnight dark and still, 

Heaped higher, whiter, day by day, 

To melt, at last, with suns of May, 

And steal, in tiny fall and rill, 

Down the long slopes of granite gray; 

Or, filter slow through seam and cleft 


When frost and storm the rock have reft. 
To bubble cool in sheltered springs 
Where the. lor.e reu-bkil &ij ? ; is wing.;, 
And the tired fox that gains its brink 
Stoops, safe from hound and horn, to drink. 
And rills and springs, grown broad and deep, 
Unite through gorge and glen to sweep 
In roaring brooks that turn and take 
The over-floods of pool and lake, 
Till, to the fields, the hills deliver 
Contoocook's bright and brimming river! 

O have you seen, from Hillsboro town 

How fast its tide goes hurrying down, 

With rapids now. and now a leap 

Past giant boulders, black and steep, 

Plun ged in mid water, fain to keep 

Its current from the meadows green? 

But, flecked with foam, it speeds along; 

And not the birch trees silvery sheen, 

Nor the soft lull of whispering pines, 

Nor hermit thrushes, fluting low, 

Nor ferns, nor cardinal flowers that glow 

Where clematis, the fairy, twines. 

Can stay its course, or still its song; 

Ceaseless it flows till, round its bed, 

The vales of Henniker are spread, 

Their banks all set with golden grain, 

Or stately trees whose vistas gleam — 

A double forest in the stream ; 

And, winding 'neath the pine-crowned hill 

That overhangs the village plain, 

By sunny reaches, broad and still, 

It nears the bridge that spans its tide — 

The bridge whose arches low and wide 

It ripples through — and should you lean 

A moment there, no lovelier scene 

On England's Wye, or Scotland's Tay, * 

Would charm your gaze, a summer's day. 

And on it glides, by grove and glen, 
Dark woodlands, and the homes of men, 
With now a ferry, now a mill ; 
Till, deep and calm, its waters fill 
The channels round that gem of i3les 
Sacred to captives' woes and wiles, 
And, gleeful half, half eddying back, 
Blend with the lordly Merrimack ; 
And Merrimack whose tide is strong 
Rolls gently, with its waves along, 
Monadnock's stream that, coy and fair, 
Has come, its larger life to share, 
And, to the sea, doth safe deliver 
Contoocook's bright and brimming river! 

Brooklyn, N. 7. 





The widow Montgomery's snug little 
house was looking its best. The " Fall 
cleaning *' was all completed, and from 
the kitchen to the attic everything was 
as neat as two energetic hands could 
make it — while the widow herself, 
dressed in a neat home suit of brown al- 
paca, stood watching, from the sitting- 
room window, the dead leaves which 
were blown about by the chill November 
wind. She was a happy looking little 
woman, with jet black hair and eyes, and 
an unmistakable air of gentility about 
her. The time had been when she was 
the petted daughter of wealthy parents, 
but the wealth had " taken wings,"— the 
fond parents had died, and she had mar- 
ried Alvin Montgomery, a plain carpen- 
ter, for the sake of a home, and because 
she knew he loved her. In short, she 
" married in haste to repent at leisure.'" 
The young husband had built the cottage 
and taken his bride home soou after their 
marriage, and llattie Montgomery had 
tried hard to be content; but she found 
this life very different from what had 
once been hers, and when death stepped 
into the home circle and took from 
thence her husband, she could not mourn 
with any deep and lasting grief. It is 
true she missed him. and really mourned 
for him, because she thought it her duty 
so to do, and because he had always been 
kind to her, but when she laid aside her 
robes at the end of a year, people said 
she laid aside her regrets likewise. 
"Whether she did or not is nothing to 
me — I have only to tell her story in the 
fewest words possible. Just across the 
way from the widow's cottage stood a 
large white house, with long piazzas and 
deep bay windows, which quite threw 
into the shade the little cottage in ques- 
tion, but Mrs. Montgomery cared little 
for this. To be sure, she worked hard, 
and the sewing machine was seldom al- 

lowed to remain idle long at a time, but 
she somehow managed to find time to 
read her favorite books and practice her 
favorite selections upon the piano, which 
was the only memento she possessed of 
olden days. She also found time to build 
castles in the air, which, like all castles 
of a similar nature, tumbled to pieces as 
soon as they were built. 

There was one thing which Mrs. Mont- 
gomery particularly disliked, and that 
was matchmaking. " ; In ten cases out of 
a hundred such marriages proved unhap- 
py, " ?he often declared, and as her own 
marriage was reckoned in with the hun- 
dred, she evidently knew whereof she 
spoke. It is a pity that people cannot 
find pleasure of a less questionable char- 
acter. There are unhappy marriages 
enough which people enter into of their 
own free will, without those which are, 
in one sense of the word, directly 
brought about by interested parties, who, 
when they discover the evil they have 
wrought, lift their hands in surprise and 
exclaim: ll Well, I am sure I am not to 
blame. I told him [or herj to consider 
everything, and then do as he [or she] 
thought best, and if they really decided 
to marry, never to blame me if the mar- 
riage proved otherwise than happy." 
Of course they are not to blame — no on*e 
would think of blaming them; and they 
can go on their w T ay with a elear con- 
science, and perhaps do the same thing 
over again, and, quite as likely as not, 
with the same result. In spite of her 
horror of matchmaking, however, Mrs. 
Montgomery had a scheme in her little 
head that she thought a very wise one. 
In the great house across the way, pre- 
viously mentioned, lived Lester Pierce. 
He was a bachelor somewhere in the for- 
ties, wealthy, handsome and honorable, 
a noble specimen of what a man should 
be. For over* ten years he had lived 



there alone, with the exception of his 
housekeeper and her husband, and al- 
though he bore his years lightly, the sil- 
ver was beginning to creep into the 
brown hair and long silken beard. " Time 
he had a wife," the little widow had said 
many times to herself, and if he was not 
disposed to help himself to one, why, she 
would tty and select one for him, only it 
must be brought about very quietly. 

In the city of L . lived her only 

brother. He had once been quite 
wealthy, but the hard times and sudden 
failures had swept away his property, 
and now, with a sick wife and family of 
seven children, he found life to be a 
round of toil and trouble. His eldest 
child, a daughter, was very beautiful — 
so at least thought the widow when she 
received a letter containing an account 
of her brother's misfortunes, together 
with a photograph of her niece. Ida 
Hartwell, and there at once sprang up in 
her wise little head a scheme whereby 
she could secure a home for Ida — and a 
wife for Lester Pierce. Not for worlds 
would she have had either party think 
she was matchmaking, however, so she 
decided to write and invite Ida to pass 
the winter with her. The letter had been 
written, dispatched and answered, the 
invitation accepted, and she was now 
awaiting the arrival of the train upon 
which she expected her neice to come. 

11 It is time I was on my way to the de- 
pot," soliloquized Mrs. Montgomery at 
length, turning away from the window, 
and placing upon her head a brown vel- 
vet hat, and throwing over her shoulders 
a warm shawl. kk I hope I shall like Ida, 
and I hope Lester Pierce will like her, 
too. It will be so nice to have a relative 
live so near me. Oh, how cold it is!'' 
she exclaimed, as she left the house, lock- 
ing the front door securely behind her. 

A brisk walk of a quarter of a mile 
brought her to the depot just as the cars 
steamed slowly up to the platform. Hur- 
rying forward, she eagerly scanned eve- 
ry face as the passengers alighted one by 
one. At length she saw the sweet face 
of her niece, and in a moment more she 
had taken the small hands in her own and 
welcomed her in the most cordial manner. 

"Are you my Aunt Hattie:" ques- 
tioned the softest, sweetest voice Mrs. 
Montgomery bad ever heard. 

" Yes, Ida. and I am so glad to see you. 
Come this way and we will fLii your 
trunk. Have you a check? " 

,l Yes, here it is, Auntie,' 1 rer i'ed the 
girl, as she hastened to assist her innt in 
securing her baggage. 

Fifteen minutes later and Mrs. Mont- 
gomery, Ida and the baggage were snug- 
ly ensconced in the little cottage, having 
been transferred there by the " hotel 
team," and the widow silently contem- 
plated her niece as she helped to remove 
the giiTs wrappings. She was very 
lovely, with an innocent, doll-like ex- 
pression in the pure young face. Kings 
of sunny hair rippled away froai the 
somewhat low forehead, and hang down 
over her slender shoulders. Her eyes 
were dark blue, with a merry, roguish 
light in their depths. Her faee was 
quite pale — too colorless for perfect 
health, thought the widow, as she bus- 
tled about to prepare refreshments for 
her guest. 

" I am so glad you sent for me. Aunt 
Hattie. I mean to be as happy as the 
day is long here with you. Too must 
let me assist you, so that I shall sot feel 
myself a burden to you, and then I can 
stay as long as I like, can I not? " 

" Indeed, what can you do to assist 
me, my dear? Your company will more 
than repay me if I like you as well as I 
think I will," returned her aunt, as she 
led the way to the cosy dining room, 
where a delicious supper awaited them. 

'■ Oh, Aunt Hattie, how nice an d pleas- 
ant it is here!" said Ida, when the win- 
dow shades were at length dri-vn. the 
lamp lighted, and they had sealed them- 
selves beside the round table which 
stood in the center of the room. •• Do 
you know I fancied you were old and 
gray, and lived in a horrid, old-fashioned 
village with rickety, tumble-down Louses, 
your own the most of all? I mast write 
to papa to-morrow and tell him bow sur- 
prised and happy I am." 

'.'Your ideas of country life were un- 
doubtedly as unpleasant as the picture 
your imagination drew of me arid my 



varroundings," said her aunt with a 
smile. " But did not your father en- 
lighten you iu regard to my being oid 
and gray?" she inquired. 

" Xo, he onh* laughed when I told him 
that I knew you were old and cross, and 
said I must come and see for myself,'' re- 
turned Ida. 

Then followed questions and answers 
concerning family affairs, and it was 
quite late when they at length retired for 
the night. As days passed on. the young 
giiTs delight by no means diminished. 
The brisk walks which her aunt urged 
her to take every day, together with her 
happy spirits, soon brought roses to take 
the place of lilies in the sweet face. How 
to bring about a meeting between Lester 
Pierce and Ida now became a" matter of 
concern to Mrs. Montgomery, for. as she 
was but little acquainted with that gen- 
tleman and seldom met him, there were 
not so many opportunities for so doing 
as one would suppose ; but fate at length 
took the matter in hand. It happened 
on this wise. 

One day Ida entered the sitting-room, 
where her aunt sat at work, and hastily 
throwing her hat and sacque upon the 
nearest chair, she waltzed around the 
room once or twice, finally stopping and 
throwing her arms around Mrs. Mont- 
gomery's neck, and giving her a kiss on 
either cheek. 

''What has happened to you. Ida?" 
said the widow, disengaging herself 
from the girl's grasp, and turning arouud 
in surprise. 

" Oh, Aunt Hattie, I am so surprised 
and delighted ! I was returning from the 
post office, and was just at the street 
crossing this side of Johnson & Hall's, 
when I heard my name called. I turned 
around and saw a gentleman and lady 
coming rapidly towards me. At first I 
did not recognize the lady, but as they 
drew nearer 1 saw to my delight that it 
was my old schoolmate and dearest 
friend, Susie Pierce. I have not met her 
before for two years. She was with her 
uncle, Lester Pierce, and talks of stop- 
ping with him through the winter. I in- 
vited them to call, and Mr. Pierce said, 
turning to Susie, ' My dear, I am under 

great obligations to you if byyourcora- 
ing I can form the acquaintance of Mrs. 
Montgomery and her iiiece,^ asw then. 
not waiting for her to reply, he thanked 
me very politely and said they would call 
this evening, if agreeable. Of course 
you don't care if they do come," con- 
cluded the girl, as she raised her hat and 
sacque from the floor, where they had 
fallen during her pirouette around the 

" Certainly not, Ida; I would be very 
glad to know your friend, and to become 
better acquainted with her uncle,'' re- 
plied Mrs. Montgomery with a smile. 

Xever in her own girlish days had she 
taken half the pride in herself that she 
did that evening in her niece. Certainly 
the girl had never looked more lovely, 
and when the expected guests arrived it 
was no wonder that Lester Pierce's eyes 
rested in admiration upon her. 

k * You will lay aside your wrappings, 
Susie, and pass the evening with us," in- 
sisted Ida. after introducing the young 
lady to her aunt. " This must not be a 
formal call, for I have so much to say to 

" I promised uncle that I would attend 
the lecture with him," replied Susie, 
turning toward her uncle with a smile. 

" I will excuse you, if such be your 
wish, my dear, and will call for you as 
I return home," replied Mr. Pierce. 

li Thank you, uncle, I will stop, I 
think, as I really have no desire to attend 
the lecture," said Susie, as she threw 
aside her hat and shawl and seated her- 
self in the easy chair Ida had placed at 
her disposal. 

Susie Pierce was as plain as Ida Hart- 
well was beautiful, yet one seemed to for- 
get the lack of beauty in the dark face * 
when they came to know her intimately. 
She was a brunette, and the only beauty 
her face afforded was her large, lustrous 
black eyes. There was so much soul in 
them (if 1 may use the expression) that 
instinctively one felt the beauty of the 
soul which looked out from their inmost 
depths. She was dressed in a black 
cashmere, relieved only by snowy lace at 
the neck and wrists. 

Mr. Pierce attended the lecture. The 



evening passed very pleasantly to the 
young ladies in recalling their school- 
days, while M.r&. Montgomery busied 
herself with her work. 

It was ten o'clock when Mr. Pierce 
called for Susie, and Mrs. Montgomery 
managed to make his call so pleasant 
that it was nearly eleven when they at 
length rose to take their leave. Mr. 
Pierce invited the ladies to a party at his 
house on the following Tuesday eve. 

"The old house needs warming up 
with young faces and happy hearts. I 
have lived alone so long that the very 
walls have become like myself — desolate 
and lonely. I thank the good angel that 
put the thought in Susie's heart to visit 

u Then she came unexpectedly," said 
Mrs. Montgomery. 

" Yes, I knew nothing of it until she 
came into my reading room yesterday 
afternoon," returned the gentleman. 

" His reading room, as he calls it, is a 
perfect bachelor's den," said Susie,. with 
a smile. 

" Don't slander me to my good neigh- 
bor?., Susie," said he, a smile lighting^up 
his somewhat sad face ; then turning to 
Ida, he said; "Don't be ceremonious, 
Miss Hartwell, but call upon us when- 
ever you wish — the oftener the better. 
I expect Susie will get homesick and 
leave me at the end of a fortnight." 

Susie immediately declared her inten- 
tion of remaining until her uncle should 
send her away. Then, after a cordial 
good-night, the door closed upon their 
retreating forms. 

" I can see that he is charmed with 
Ida already," said Mrs. Montgomery to 
herself as she retired to rest that night. 
' ; I really believe that in lesa than six 
months she will be his wife." 

Some may think that the widow was 
strangely disinterested as regarded her- 
self, and perhaps she was so. Certainly 
she had never had a thought that there 
was any chance for her. She had some- 
how missed her chance in life for true 
happiness — if there had really ever ex- 
isted one — and she fancied herself done 
with that sort of thing forever. She was 
not sure, even, that she had a heart like 

other women, and consequently was sat- 
isfied to let matters remain as they were. 
The night of the party came and 
passed. Nothing quite so grand had 
ever before taken place in the village of 

A . From the night of the party 

there was a continual round of gayety— 
parties and (when the snow came) sleigh- 
rides, festivals, skating parties, etc. 
Lester Pierce seemed to enjoy them all 
with all the zest of a younger man. The 
widow laughingly shook her head at all 
entreaties and remained at home, while 
Ida and Susie remained inseparable 
friends and depended always upon Les- 
ter Pierce as their escort. Scarcely a 
day passed that he did not call at the 
cottage, and it had come to be an ac- 
knowledged fact that he found great at- 
traction there — people being divided in 
their opinions as to which should prove 
the favored one. Thus the winter passed 
quickl}- away. 

One evening in the early spring-time 
Ida and Susie were invited to attend a 
select party of young ladies to see about 
arranging matters for a festival. Mrs. 
Montgomery sits alone in her sitting- 
room. Her work has fallen in a heap on 
the floor, and her head rests against the 
back of her easy chair in a weary, listless 
way, quite the reverse from her usual 
energetic manner. In fact, she has 
somehow changed since we first saw her. 
Her round, happy face has lost its round- 
ness, and there is a look in the black 
eyes that tells of a mind not quite at 
ease. Suddenly she hears a step with- 
out, and then the bell rings a quick, pe- 
culiar peal, the sound of which brings 
the color to her face in a scarlet wave. 

" He has come to ask my consent to 
pay his addresses to Ida. I ought to be 
glad, but I am afraid I am not," she mur- 
mured, as she hastened to open the door. 
As she had supposed, Lester Pierce stood 
before her, and she welcomed him with 
a smile and cordial good evening. At 
her invitation he entered the house, and, 
after removing his hat, he seated himself 
with the air of one very much at home. 
A half hour passed in general conversa- 
tion, when he suddenly drew his chair 
nearer that of Mrs. Montgomery, and 


paid in a low voice, his eyes resting upon 
vnr face with an eagerness unusual to 
him : 

" Mrs. Montgomery, you and I have 
been very good friends for the past 
t hree months, and I have long been wish- 
ing to tell you that I wish much to be- 
come something more than a friend. 
You have certainly noticed my frequent 
visits here, and have doubtless guessed 
the state of my feelings. I am not much 
given to love-making,'* a smile passing 
over his face, "but I wish much to know 
if my suit is to meet with success." 

He paused, waiting for her to speak, 
but as she did not, he continued : 

u Susie goes away very soon now. and 
then I shall be more lonely than ever be- 
fore, and — well, some say I have lost the 
best years of my life, wasted them living 
alone, and perhaps I have. I am not a 
man to love lightly, and once having 
given my love away, it must be for all 
time. Will you tell me if that love is in 

"Indeed, Mr. Pierce, I cannot tell 
you, for although I have long known the 
state of your feelings, I can form no sort 
of an idea as regards Ida's. At times I 
have thought she cared for you ; at oth- 
ers I have thought she didn't." replied 
Mrs. Montgomery quietly, raising her 
eyes to her companion's face. He was 
looking at her in surprise, and for a mo- 
ment made no reply ; then he said slowly : 

O. Ill— THE u THIRD HOUSE." 109 

" Is it possible that my visits here have 
been misinterpreted? My friend, it is 
yo\n Jt-ar free that has been the attrac- 
tion, and you are the one I love and have 
loved since long before Ida came here, 
although I was but little acquainted with 
you. As for Ida, she is as dear to me as 
my own niece, which is saying much, 
but if I do not call Hattie Montgomery 
wife, I shall never call any one by that 
title. Can you give me any hope, Hat- 

At his words the color had receded 
from her face, and her head had fallen 
upon her clasped hands. The surprise 
was so complete, the reaction so great — 
for she had discovered during the past 
few weeks that she had a heart— that 
several moments passed ere she could ut- 
ter a word, and then I expect she did a 
very foolish deed for a woman of her 
years, for she laid her head upon Les- 
ter's shoulder and actually burst into 
tears. They were soon wiped away, 
however, and when the young ladies re- 
turned home they found a very happy 
couple awaiting them. 

It was not until years had come and 
gone, and she was a happy wife and 
mother, that Hattie Pierce told of her 
first and last attempt at matchmaking, 
but I think she never owned, even to her- 
self, how glad she was that the attempt 
had so signally failed. 


BY G. H. 

In the popular mind nearly all con- 
gressional legislation is supposed to be 
more or less unduly influenced by the or- 
ganization known as "the lobby." Exact- 
ly what it is, who supports it, who consti- 
tutes it, where it is located, and how it op- 
erates. are points upon which the popular 
mind aforesaid is less clear than in a gen- 
eral belief in the lobby's existence. That 
eminent statesman from the backwoods 
of Tennessee, Mr. Crutchrield, who held 
a seat in the Forty-third Congress, gave 


his opinion of the lobby in language, 
which, if not elegant, is at least terse 
and vigorous. In reply to an inquiry as 
to whether there was a " lobby " work- 
ing for the extension of a certain sewing- 
machine patent, Mr. Cutchfield, who was 
a member of the House Committee on 
Patents, said: "Lobby? that's the spook 
that i3 always arter me. I hain't been 
in Congress* only one term, and 1 don't 
want to no more. I'll be dogged if I 
can stand it. I am just pulled and 


hauled until I don't know where I am. 
* * * * This is my last year in Congress. 
T am goin' to get shet out of it at once. 
1 can't stand it. Young man, when this 
yer Congress is busted and I ken in hon- 
or tell ye all I know, I will give ye still 
more than enough to fill a book of the 
blamedest stuff ye ever dreamed about. 
I'm goin' to have my experiences pub- 
lished if I have to write 'em out myself. 
Lobby, did ye say, backin* of 'em sew- 
ing-machines? I should say so ! Lobby? 
If ye were a member ye'd rind that out. 
When I came here I learned a few things. 
Does a member love good feedin'? Then 
it rains invitations to the biggest kind of 
feeds. Does he love drinkin'? Whiskey 
runs in rivers for him upon every hand. 
Is it women he wants to persuade him ? 
Then women it is of every kind, big, lit- 
tle, old, young, and nary one of 'em 
with any morals to bother 'em. Last, if 
all these fail to fetch him. mouey can be 
had in bales rather than to loose him. I 
am a pore man, but I want to stay an 
honest one. I have stood it out two 
years in this yer place, and I ain't goin' 
to resk myself here any longer." 

At the close of his term Mr. Crutchrield 
renounced the pomps of Congressional 
life, returned to the purer atmosphere of 
his mountain home, where it is reasona- 
ble to suppose he is engaged in prepar- 
ing his great work " showing up" the 
"lobby" at Washington, nis vivid de- 
scription is that of a steady-going old 
farmer, ignorant of the world, suddenly 
brought into contact with the most dis- 
reputable phase of Congressional legis- 
lation. Unlike many others, Mr. Crutch- 
field evidently does not believe the " lob- 
by " to be a mere creature of imagina- 
tion. To him it was a stern reality, or to 
use his more expressive language, "the 
gpook that was always arter him," and 
which finally induced him to leave Con- 
gress rather than to risk the chance of 
having his integrity questioned. Other 
members have had similar experiences, 
and have withstood all the blandish- 
ments the " lobby " could offer; while 
still others, possessed of less Spartan in- 
tegrity and firmness, stand all over the 
land, thrifty monumeuts of the mysteri- 

ous power that sits enthroned at the Cap. 

^he " Iobl>y " is no myf.b : irMther is it 
so offensively conspicuous as many im- 
agine. Whoever expects to see some- 
body rushing around whispering in Con- 
gressmen's ears " I'll give you ten thou- 
sand dollars to vote for the Pacific Rail- 
road bill," and "five thousand dollars to 
vote for the Brazilian 'subsidy' bill," 
will be disappointed. . Nothing of the 
kind occurs. In fact, the experienced 
lobbyist is careful that his scheme of op- 
erations shall "take any shape but that." 
A person might haunt the corridors of 
the Capitol for years without ever hear- 
ing a proposition of this kind openly 
made. There are better methods of ex- 
erting " influence "—as witness the rela- 
tions of the Credit Mobilier and other gi- 
gantic schemes. An invitation to "take 
stock" in what promises to be a "safe in- 
vestment," a suggestion that a certain 
project will prove to be "a good thing," 
or a mild hint that a European tour 
is needed to perfect a congressman's 
health, are among the thousand and one 
little insinuations thrown out by the pro- 
fessional lobbyist. The details may be 
left to such times and circumstances as 
are mutually satisfactory to the contract- 
ing parties. That the great majority of 
Representatives and Senators are cor- 
rupt, is not, for a moment, to be believed ; 
but that some of them have shamelessly 
betra}-ed their trusts, and enriched them- 
selves at the public expense, is too plainly 
evident to admit of denial. The "lobby" 
has an existence, and is a fixed fact as 
much as the existence of Congress it- 
self. Its influence is far-reaching, pow- 
erful, and sometimes potential. It takes 
advantage of everything, and scruples 
at nothing. It leaves no methods un- 
tried, however base, to accomplish its 
purpose. It embraces in its membership 
the least reputable of both sexes. It 
has talent, wealth, and beauty at its com- 
mand. It can and does to all out ward ap- 
pearances, make and unmake those who 
should have avoided its fatal clutches. 
Apparently, it has no tangible existence. 
You cannot find its headquarters, or its 
private office. You cannot interview its 


president, secretary, or executive com- 
mittee. You don't know where to look 
for it, or where to find ic : uiir somehow or 
somewhere there is a mysterious, unac- 
countable, and powerful influence eman- 
ating that facilitates or retards the pro- 
gress of legislation involving great raon- 
ied interests of a public or private na- 
ture. There are always before Congress 
numerous and cunningly devised schemes 
to plunder the Treasury. Many of them 
are of vast magnitude, and some of them 
are made to appear to be a national ne- 
cessity. They are introduced to public 
notice and pushed forward by able, per- 
sistent, and unscrupulous men. They 
easily find their way into Congress 
through the manipulation of some friendly 
or interested member. Once introduced 
they are subjected to the ordinary chanc- 
es of legislation, and must pass through 
the customary routine of Congressional 
pulling and hauling. To push all such 
schemes through both houses of Con- 
gress, and to favorably ••influence"' the 
President, is the principal object of the 
lobby. It must not be presumed that all 
schemes iir which the lobby is interested 
are dishonest. Far from it. All is fish 
that comes to its net. U it is an honest 
claim there is less need of secrecy, and 
the work can be done openly and above- 
board. It is 011I3- necessary for th j claim- 
ant to change his figures. He must add 
a sum sufficient to cover the expenses of 
the lobby. Then if he gets his bill 
through, and escapes the clutches of the 
rapacious sharks that lay in wait for him, 
he is fortunate indeed. The great rail- 
way and subsidy rings " lobby " upon a 
grand scale. Champagne suppers, rail- 
way and steamboat excursions, junketing 
parties of all descriptions, fashionable 
dissipation, superb diuners at " swell" 
restaurants, board at the best hotels, 
costly wines, cigars, and stylish turnouts, 
are among the many numerous appli- 
ances that a powerful lobby always has 
at its command. The condition and cir- 
cumstances of every member of Con- 
gress is inquired into and known. If a 

member is poor and in need of money, 
advantage will be taken of that fact to 
Q&ptom U|m i| passible* If he takes the 
bait, all right. If he refuses he is quite 
likely to be held up to public scorn in 
some form or other. To its shame be it 
said the press has frequently been an ac- 
tive and unscrupulous ally of the lobby. 
Cheap newspapers and cheaper writers 
have sometimes prepared the way for 
the favorable consideration of disreputa- 
ble schemes for public plunder, and 
abused those who resisted them. Indeed 
the great metropolitan journals of the 
country have not been found entirely 
guiltless, as has been proven by past in- 
vestigations. The lobby will leave no 
stone unturned to secure the aid of every 
newspaper of influence, no matter what 
its name or politics. As an illustration 
of this there is a scheme involving mil- 
lions which failed at the late session of 
Congress. The fight was a hot one and 
the lobby was beaten. One of the inter- 
ested parties is chief owner in a great 
newspaper. To increase the chances of 
success, howver, efor his favorite meas- 
ure, he furnished a large sum of money 
to maintain another brilliant newspaper 
of exactly opposite political faith. 
Whether final success awaits this enter- 
prising gentleman remains to be seen; 
but it is reasonably safe to predict that 
at least one newspaper funeral would 
speedily follow the passage of a certain 

The lobby will always maintain an ex- 
istence at Washington so long as the pri- 
vate claims upon the government aggre- 
gate hundreds of millions of dollars. 
There always has been, is now and al- 
ways will be hundreds and thousands 
of such claims of varying amounts and 
infinite variety. Selfish interests will 
always prompt interested parties to take 
every advantage and use every appliance 
to hasten legislation upon such of these 
ciaims as may directly concern them. 
The lobby is a pliant tool to be used for 
all such purposes, and will be found con- 
venientlv near whenever needed. 





It is not probable that an impartial his- 
tory was ever yet written. Xo writer 
can, with greater justice, lay claim to 
impartiality than the learned- Athenian 
who wrote " for eternity." Next to 
Thucydides stands the philosophic Taci- 
tus, the uncompromising enemy of op- 
pression, and the fearless defender of the 
oppressed. In modern historians and bi- 
ographers it is in vain to look for strict 
impartiality. The writers of histories 
are partisans. They have a creed to de- 
fend or a system of government to sup- 
port. They are wily advocates, makiug 
use of the facts of history to prove their 
own dogmas; or they are the pensioned 
hirelings of an oppressive aristocracy, 
perverting the truth for a reward. A 
partisan or a pensioned dependant can 
not write history well. They neither 
write as they ought nor as they know 
how to write. They judge of men by 
the creed or politics of their party, hence 
they fail to do justice to individuals. Xo 
man expects justice from an opponent. 
A statesman's biography cannot be writ- 
ten with fidelity, while the principles he 
advocated remain unpopular. The advo- 
cate of necessary reform will always be 
abused by the majority. Tyrants never 
relish discourses upon liberty, uor wily 
bigots endure homilies upon toleration. 
44 As a man thinketh in his heart, so is 
he." Let him once be convinced of the 
divine right of Kings and Priests and his 
hostility to democrats and independents 
will know no bounds. If such a man's 
opinions are adopted and perpetuated br- 
others, neither time nor distance will 
abate the virulence of their advocates. 
The Catholic of to-day hates Luther as 
cordially as did his Catholic contempora- 
ries. The cavaliers and churchmen of 
Victoria's reign assail the character of 
Cromwell with as much bitterness as did 
those of the time of Charles the First. 

The injustice of contemporaries is pro- 
verbial. The injustice of a partisan pos- 
terity is equally notorious. The parties 
which the living patriot encountered 
dispute over his tomb, nay, they contin- 
ue to dispute after his very dust has min- 
gled with its parent earth, and the place 
where his bones repose is forgotten. Soc- 
rates, who is said by one of the wisest of 
the Romans to have brought philosophy 
from heaven to earth, was held up to the 
contempt of an Athenian populace by a 
distinguished comedian as an impudent 
charlatan and a reviler of the gods of the 
people ; and after the lapse of 2000 years 
there are not wasting men who defend 
the shameless satirist. It is never safe 
to repeat or admit the -charges even of 
an enemy who is reputed honest, with- 
out careful examination. Some men 
seem to be born partisans. Their pecul- 
iar mental constitution inclines them to 
adopt particular opinions, and to imbibe 
particular sentiments. They adopt what 
they feel to be right ; not what reason 
commends. They reject what their feel- 
ings oppose, not what virtue condemns. 
Ilence the integrity of a partisan wit- 
ness cannot secure him against errors of 
judgment. The more honestly he enter- 
tains his own views, the moie injurious 
will he be to his opponent. 

These remarks apply, with peculiar 
significancy, to those men, who, from 
their austere lives and devoted piety, 
were called Puritans. Their history has 
been written by their enemies. Their er- 
rors, their foibles, and their innocent pe- 
culiarities, have been exaggerated into 
the most odious crimes. The good deeds 
they performed have been studiously dis- 
colored or concealed; the virtues they 
practiced have been blackened by the 
grossest slanders, and the inconsiderable 
weaknesses which they, being men of 
like passions with others, shared, have 



been diligently set forth in the garb of have been so long accustomed to rever- 
tba most repulsive cant and hypocrisy, ence power, and to admire the conquer- 
Among these men thus willfully traduc- or's nodding plume and glittering helmet, 

ed by malicious enemies, stands pre-emi- 
nent the leader of the great rebellion, 
Oliver Cromwell. At the mention of his 
name, the mind is at once beset with im- 
ages of violence, of oppression, tyranny, 
falsehood and hypocrisy. Why should 
the name of Cromwell be associated with 

when surrounded with all the ** pomp 
and circumstance, of glorious war," that 
they have learned not only to tolerat 'but 
to laud the vices of their heroes. They 
expect a great man to be a wicked man. 
Public character and private virtue are 
dissociated. The trappings of royalty, the 

all that is vile in men or odious in de- diadem, the purple robe, and the studded 

mons? Did he walk the earth an incar- 
nate fiend? Was he, as his foes main- 
tained, in league with the Prince of dark- 
ness? Why has his name become, in his- 
tory, synonymous with usurper, tyrant, 
and hypocrite? 'Tis true he won a king- 
dom by his valor. So did David, the 
man after God's own heart. "Tis true he 
consented to the death of an imbecile, 
perjured tyrant. If David did not as 
much, he was as undoubtedly reconciled, 
eventually, to the removal of Saul, and 
wore his ro} al honors without reluctance. 
'Tis true that Cromwell punished those 
who conspired to overthrow his govern- 
ment ancr refused to obey his laws. So 
did the Hebrew monarch. 'Tis true that 
Cromwell believed in a special Provi- 
dence, and ever acknowledged the reign 
of Jehovah. "lis no less true that he 
prayed earnestly and devoutly to the 
God of Heaven for divine counsel and 
guidance; and he believed, too, in his 
inmost soul, that his prayers were heard 
and answered. All this did the sweet 
Psalmist of Israel. It does not. there- 
fore follow, because Cromwell consented 
to the death of Charles, that he was a 
regicide, nop because he wore the regal 
honors that he was a usurper, nor be- 
cause he prayed and sung psalms that he 
was a hypocrite. Had he been as reck- 
less as Macedonia's " Madman or the 
Swede," had be been as profligate as 
Csesar and as bloodthirsty as Napoleon, 
had he combined and in his own charac- 
ter, all the vices of military chieftains 
from the days of Ximrod to Andrew 
Jackson, and at the same time been as 
undevout as Paine or Yoltaira, he might 
have stood in peerless grandeur among 
earth's mightiest heroes, without a stain 
of meanness upon his character. Men 

baldrick, conceal the moral diseases of 
the monarch ; and when, like Herod of 
old, arrayed in royal apparel and seated 
upon a throne he makes an oration, the 
people shout; " it is the voice of a god 
and not of a man," though he may al- 
ready be smitten with a moral plague by 
the angel of the bottomless pit! Had 
Cromwell been as immoral and profligate 
as other conquerors whom the .world de- 
lights to honor, his very wickedness 
would have abated one half of the slan- 
ders with which the 'press has teemed 
against him. But he was a religious 
man, a man of prayer. In this he was 
so unlike other conquerors that the mul- 
titude, at once, pronounced him a hypo- 
crite. The like was never known in the 
biographies of a thousand heroes. Great 
men never pray— never make God's word 
the standard Of their conduct. For a 
pretence he makes long prayers. He is 
a deceiver — a mean, canting hypocrite, 
say they. The reputation of the Pro- 
tector has suffered from this one cause 
more than from all others. It was not 
so strange a thing in the world's history, 
or in England's history even, that a king 
should be deposed or murdered, that the 
trial and condemnation of his most sa- 
cred majesty, Charles I. should have so 
filled the hearts of men with horror and 
loaded the memory of his judges and ex- 
ecutioners with ignominy. Had the 
king been removed by secret assassina 
tion, his murderer might have filled his 
throne with no reproach of meanness. 
Men would have called him wicked, no 
doubt, but the very daring of the villany 
would have cloaked its enormity. Men 
look upon Richard III. with more com- 
placency than upon Cromwell ; and why? 
Because they, erroneously, suppose that 



the one was an open and fearless usurp- 
er, the other a disguised and hypocriti- 
cal one. Cromwell and his compeers 
acted under a deep sense of religious 
responsibility, and with a strong and un- 
wavering conviction that their cause was 
the cause of God. Their victories were 
all ascribed to God's mercy. His guid- 
ing hand was everywhere acknowledged, 
and everywhere proclaimed. Believing 
that they were, in a sense, engaged in a 
holy war, they sought out good men to 
do battle for the Lord. 

In one of the Protectors speeches to a 
large committee of his second Parlia- 
ment, he briefly alludes to his early ef- 
forts in the revolution, in connection with 
his friend and relative. John Hampden : 
" At my first going into this engage- 
ment, [meaning the civil war] I saw our 
men were beaten on every hand. I did 
indeed; and desired him [John Hamp- 
den] that he would make some additions 
to my Lord Essex's army, of some new 
regiments; and I told him I would be 
servicable to him in bringing such men 
in as I thought had a spirit that would 
do something in the work. This is very 
true that I tell you ; God knows I lie 
not. Your troops, said I, are most of 
them old decayed serving men, tapsters, 
and such kind of fellows; and. said I, 
their troops are geutlemen's sons, and 
persons of quality. Do you think that 
the spirits of such base and mean fellows 
will ever be able to encounter gentlemen 
that have honor and courage and resolu- 
tion in them? Truly I did represent to 
him in this manner, conscientiously and 
truly I did tell him : 'You must get men 
of spirit, and take it not ill what I say. 
I know you will not — of a spirit that is 
likely to go on as far as gentlemen will 
go; — or else you will be beaten still.' I 
told him so ; I did truly. He was a wise 
and worthy person, and he did think that 
I talked a good notion but an impractica- 
ble one. Truly I told him I could do 
somewhat in it. I did so, and truly I 
must needs say this to you, the result was 
— impute it to what you please — I raised 
such men as had the fear of God before 
them, as made some conscience of what 
they did, and from that day forward, I 

must say to you, they were never beat- 
en, and whenever they were engaged 
against trie enemy they beat continually^. 
And truly this is matter of praise to 
God, and it hath some instruction in it 
to our men who are religious and godly.'' 
In another speech, he uses the follow- 
ing language: li If 1 were to choose any 
servant, the meanest officer for the army 
or the Commonwealth, 1 would choose a 
godly man that hath principles, especial- 
l} r where a trust is to be committed. Be- 
cause I know where to have a man that 
hath principles." Truly he did know 
both where to have men of principle, 
and how to choose them. He selected 
the best and wisest for places of trust 
and responsibility. Even his enemies 
admit it. Such were his uniform declar- 
ations, and his practice corresponded to 
them. Does any one call this cant, hy- 
pocrisy and meanness? To such a one I 
would say in the words of Carlyle : "The 
man is without a soul that looks into this 
Great Soul of a man, radiant with the 
splendors of very Heaven, and sees noth- 
ing there but the shadow of his own 
mean darkness. Ape of the dead sea, 
peering asquint into the Hoh r of Holies, 
let us have done with thy commentaries. 
Thou canst not fathom it." Xo great 
man, much less a good man, ever lived, 
of whom all men spoke well. Xot even 
he u who went about doing good" re- 
ceived testimony from men. •' Some 
said he is a good man, others said nay, 
but he deceiveth the people." Because 
bigots and the tools of tyrants have rep- 
resented the Puritans as ignorant, besot- 
ted fanatics, are we bound to believe 
them? There are not wanting men in 
our own land who still take pleasure in 
abusing the Pilgrims, denouncing them 
as mere political adventurers, unscrupu- 
lous partisans, knavish, time-serving 
hypocrites. And who are the men who 
at this late period, attempt to set aside 
the verdict ot many generations, and to 
pour contempt upon our honored ances- 
try, of whom the world was not worthy? 
These are they who light wax candles in 
the day time, who venerate Holy Mother 
Church, who make genuflexions before a 
crucifix, and consign men better than 



themselves over to the uncovenanted 
cytereies of G<>d. These are iliey thru. 
venerate the faithless Charles as a mar- 
tyr of blessed memory, and devoutly 
lisp the praises of the sainted Laud ! It 
is right to judge of men by their works. 
Revelation pronounces those blessed who 
die in the Lord: the reason, too. is an- 
nexed : "That they may rest from their 
labors ; and their works do follow them." 
This goodly land in which we dwell is 
eloquent of the works of the Puritans; 
if we should altogether hold our peace 
concerning them, the very stones would 
cry aloud in their behalf. i; English his- 
tory," says Bancroft, " must judge of 
Cromwell by his influence on the institu- 
tions of England." 

If the Protector were now alive, he 
would assent with his whole heart to this 
standard. "While he lived, he said fear- 
lessly to his Parliament: u this govern- 
ment [is] a thing I shall say little unto. 
The thing is open and visible, to be seen 
and read of all men; and therefore let it 
speak for itself." And what does this 
government say for his Highness? Be- 
fore answering this question, let us look 
at Cromwell's previous history. Little is 
certainly known of his early life. In- 
deed weknow little of him till he was forty 
years of age. Th<s gay butterflies that 
6warmed about the Court of Charles II. 
sought for themselves an ephemeral ce- 
lebrity by inventing scandalous reports, 
not only of Cromwell's reign, but of his 
early life. Most of the anecdotes that 
have come down to us are derived from a 
little book called "Flagellum. or the 
Life and Death of Oliver Cromwell, the 
late Usurper. " by James Heath. From 
this polluted source has flowed a contin- 
uous torrent of filthy slime and mud to 
bury, in ever accumulating infamy, the 
memory of departed greatness. When 
royal spite and priestly vengeance were 
digging the earth from mouldering corp- 
ses; l * when St. Margaret's churchyard 
was polluted with the decayed bodies of 
a hundred patriots, torn from their last 
resting place to glut the malice of His 
Most Christian Majesty, together with 
bis retinue of harlots and ghostly advi- 
sers;" and among them the remains of 

Admiral Blake, who contributed as much 
as ai>* other* i&aa that §ym lived to 
make England mistress of the seas; 
" when the gallows was graced with the 
rattling bones and mouldering clay of 
the high-souled Oliver and his coadju- 
tors ;" when such fantastic tricks were 
enacted in the face of high Heaven; 
what could we expect from the mean, 
cowardly, sycophantic Heath, who. like 
his prototype in the desert, sees not when 
good coraeth. who comes like Falstaff to 
battle upon the slain, and flesh his maid- 
en sword in the body of the dead hero? 
Of this man and his work, Carlyle says : 
; ' Heath's poor, little, brown, lying Fla- 
gellum is described, by one of the mod- . 
eras, as 4 Flagitium,' and Heath himself 
is called ' carion Heath,' as being an un- 
fortunate, blasphemous dullard, and 
scandal to humanity; — blasphemous; 
who when the image of God is shining 
through a man, reckons it, in his sordid 
soul to be the image of the Devil, and 
acts accordingly ;" who in fact has no 
soul except what saves him the expense 
of salt : who intrinsically is carrion and 
not humanity; which seems hard to 
measure to poor James Heath." 

Considering the origin of these tales of 
his boyish irregularities and dissipation, 
we may safely set them down to the cred- 
it of his slanderers, and at once pro- 
nounce them false. The stories of his 
profligacy while a student at law. have 
not the least foundation in fact; for he 
never was in the Inns of Court, as his 
veracious biographers pretend. The 
books of all the Inns have been diligent- 
ly searched, and the name of Oliver 
Cromwell no where appears. The strong- 
est proofs of his early impiety are the 
penitential confessions of Oliver himself 
in a private letter to a friend. Here his 
language is vague and general. He does 
indeed admit that he had been the chief 
of sinners, and so did Paul ; but we may 
not wrest this confession to the injury of 
either. Cromwell early became a truly 
religious man, and from the time of his 
making a public profession of religion 
till he became the most prominent man 
in the realm, by the confession of his en- 
emies, he led a consistent life. If he af- 



terwards became all things to all men. to 
gratify boundless ambition, which was 
his easily besetting sin. we can only say, 
that like most good men, he sometimes 
acted inconsistently with his principles 
and profession. While he lived as a re- 
tired and qniet farmer in Huntingdon, 
and afterwards at St. Ives, no man hath 
found aught to censure in his character 
or conduct. 

At the age of twenty-nine he was a 
member of the 3d parliament of Charles, 
to represent his native Huntingdon. Is 
it probable that his fellow citizens, who 
knew his whole historv. would have se- 

him. Hampden first discovered his su- 
perior talents, and he is said to have re- 
marked, "should this contest end in a 
war, yonder sloven, (pointing to his 
cousin), will be the first man in Eng- 
land." Cromwell followed fortune, or, 
in bis own language, the " leadings of 
divine Providence." He made the most 
of his position on every step of the lad- 
der by which he rose to supreme power. 
He was not conscious even of his own 
strength. He acted under strong convic- 
tions of the 'necessity' of the course he 
adopted. To a spectator, therefore, he 
seemed almost like one inspired. He 

lected such a scape-grace as he is repre- moved forward with a directness of pur- 

sented to have been, to fill the place 
which his honored and honorable uncle. 
Sir Oliver Cromwell, had so long and so 
creditably occupied? While he lived in 
retirement, his enemies being unable to 
impeach his morals, would fain under- 
value his capacity for business. He is 
represented as having squandered his 
mother's and his wife's estate so that he 
was reduced almost to beggary. After 
inheriting a considerable estate from his 
uncle, Sir Robert Stewart, one of the 
turkey-buzzards of that age sa} T s : "Short- 
ly after having again run out of all. he 
resolved to go to Xew England." The 
testimony of Milton will set this forever 
at rest. He says : '* Being now arrived 
to a mature and ripe age, which he spent 
as a private person, noted for nothing 
more than the cultivation of pure relig- 
ion, and integrity of life, he was grown 
rich at home." The fact that he was able 
to subscribe £1000 for raising soldiers at 
the first out-breaking of the civil war, 
shows that he was no beggar. In par- 

pose, an earnestness and a certainty of 
success unparalleled in the world's his- 
tory ; and yet it was a favorite remark of 
his: " Xo man often advances higher 
than he who knows not whither he is 
going." As he rose, in rank and power, 
he filled each successive office with the 
dignity and grace of a hereditary prince. 
His mind expanded as his sphere of in- 
fluence enlarged. An English Essayist 
observes : " Cromwell, by the confession 
even of his enemies, exhibited in his de- 
meanor the simple and natural noble- 
ness of a man neither ashamed of his or- 
igin nor vain of bis elevation ; of a man 
who had found his proper place in soci- 
ety, and who felt secure that he was com- 
petent to fill it. Easy even to familiar- 
ity, where his own dignity was concern- 
ed, he was punctilious only for his coun- 

His private letters to his family show 
the kind father, the affectionate husband, 
and the. true economist. His public dis- 
patches, while in the army, breathe the 

liament, he does not seem to have acted purest patriotism with the most fervent 

a prominent part. Whenever he does ap- 
pear, it is always in defense of liberty 
and religion. The civil war stirred his 
mighty mind to its depths. He entered 
into it as a true patriot should have done, 
with spirit, energy and decision, and he 
never deserted the true interests of his 
country; nor did he desert the parlia- 
ment, even, till that parliament became 
a quarrelsome faction and deserted hirn. 
In the commencement of his career, his 

piety. He ever acknowledges the good 
hand of God in every victory ; and it is 
said Cromwell never lost a battle. Xo 
one can reasonably impute this iiabitual 
recognition of God's power and provi- 
dence to sheer hypocrisy. We can see 
no possible motive for such deception. 
It was un-called for, and could answer no 
important purpose. It is far more chari- 
table to believe and to maintain that his 
prayers, his repeated appeals to the in- 

future destiny had never dawned upon spired word, and his fervent thanksgiv- 



ings to Almighty God for his success, 
were the spontaneous outpourings of a 
devout and graceful heart. His numer- 
ous speeches to his several parliaments 
are all characterized by the same zeal for 
religion ; the same earnest and apparent- 
ly sincere desires for the highest good of 
the people. 'Tis true he spoke with great 
caution, because every word was treas- 
ured up, and would be made, if possible, 
a weapon for his own destruction. His 
sentences, are. therefore, sometimes in- 
volved, intricate, and obscure, encum- 
bered with repetitions, and frequently 
unfinished. We can find other motives 
fer this hesitancy and circumlocution be- 
sides fraud and intrigue. The critical 
position in which ne was placed suffi- 
ciently explains them all. But, says 
one, palliate his conduct as you will, he 
was still a usurper and a tyrant. Let us 
hold up this charge to the light of truth. 
We admit that he held power which the 
people had never delegated to him, and 
which he had not gained by hereditary 
descent. If no circumstances will jus- 
tify such an assumption of authority, 
then Cromwell must rest under the stig- 
ma of exercising unjust power. Let us 
look at the state of society and the con- 
dition of the government. As Cromwell 
was situated, it was a question of life 
and death with him. whether he should 
put himself at the head of the State. 
Had he doubted, or hesitated, or shown 
fear he would have been crushed, «and an- 
archy dark, fearful and bloody, would 
have followed. The.Cornmonwealth was 
rent with factions. Xo party had suffi- 
cient influence to lead the others. All 
were seeking for the supremacy. Roy- 
alists and Republicans, levelers and fifth 
monarchy men. Episcopalians and Pres- 
byterians, Independents and Quakers. 
The nation was one mighty seething pot 
of isms, political and religi jus. No man 
could control these hostile and turbulent 
factions but Cromwell. He saw it and 
acted accordingly. I do not mean to as- 
sert that while he acted from an evident 
necessity, that he did not act in accord- 
ance .vith a fully developed and inexcu- 
sable ambition; but as Guizot asserts, 
"if he had abdicate^ his power one day 

he would have been obliged to resume it 
the next." "Puritans or royalists, re- 
pibiicaiis or oilkers, there was no one 
but Cromwell who was in a state at tins 
time, to govern with anything like order 
and justice." That fragment of a con- 
stitutional assembly denominated by way 
of derision the kl rump parliament," 
were as ambitious of power as the Pro- 
tector. They wished to make the power 
which the people delegated to them for 
a season, perpetual and perhaps heredi- 
tary. They were about to curse the na- 
tion with a permanent oligarchy. Crom- 
well saw it and resisted their usurpation. 
The violent dissolution of this parlia- 
ment was not generally ungrateful to the 
people. Cromwell says himself : '"So far 
as I could discern, when they were dis- 
solved, there was not so much as the 
barking of a dog. or any general and vis- 
ible repining at it." When he assumed 
the reins of government, though he act- 
ed arbitrary, he did not assume unlim- 
ited power. •' For himself," says Ma- 
caulay. " he demanded indeed the first 
place in the Commonwealth; but with 
powers scarcely as great as those of a 
Dutch Stadtholder or an American Pres- 
ident. He gave the Parliament a voice 
in the appointment of miuisters, and left 
to it the whole legislative authority — not 
even reserving to himself a veto on its 
enactments. And he did not require 
that the Chief Magistracy should be he- 
reditary in his family. * * * Had his 
moderation been met by corresponding 
moderation, there is no reason to think 
he would have overstepped the line which 
he had traced for himself." When the 
Parliament which he summoned began 
to question his authority to rule, the 
same authoiity, too. by which they were 
called, and under which they acted, he 
became more arbitrary and dismissed 
them; and who would not have pursued 
the same course? The necessity under 
which the Protector lay of assuming des- 
potic power, does not prove him guilt- 
less in this matter, but it certainly palli- 
ates the crime, if crime it may be called. 
But. says an objector, why pull down one 
tyrant to set up another? The domina- 
tion of Cromwell was as odious and op- 



pressive as that of Charles 5 what, then, 
bad the people gained by ten years of 
•;>ifiV>ri>sir. toil ana &k*e*l&be€fr? 1 aasweF* 
much, ever}' way. The two administra- 
tions, though both were despotic, were 
as unlike as light and darkness. I do not 
assert this without authority. 

Of Charles. Macaulay, than whom no 
man is better versed in English history, 
says : * ; All the promises of the king were 
violated without scruple, or shame. The 
Petition of Right to which he had in con- 
sideration of money's duly numbered, 
given a solemn assent, was set at naught. 
Taxes were raised by the royal authori- 
ty. Patents and monopoly were granted. 
The old usages of feudal times were 
made preetxts for harrassing the people 
with exactions unknown during many 
years. The Puritans were persecuted 
with cruelty worthy of the Holy Office. 
They were forced to fly from their coun- 
try. They were imprisoned. They were 
whipped. Their ears were cut off. Their 
noses were slit. Their cheeks were brand- 
ed with red-hot iron."' Another able crit- 
ic observes : " The sovereign was. in fact, 
a Rob Roy on a large scale; the Richard 
Turpin ot the nation : and his represent- 
atives were licensed highwaymen and 
freebooters, levying an abominable black- 
mail from their fellow subjects/' Such, 
in brief, was the reign of the faithless 
tyrant, Charles I. England was bleed- 
ing at every pore. The rights of her cit- 
izens were all abrogated. The land, the 
property, the lives of the people, accord- 
ing to the prevailing politics and religion, 
belonged to the king by divine right. 
Nothing but resistance to oppression 
could arrest the encroachments of the 
government. Resistance was made. The 
tyrant was defeated. The abuses of many 
years were reformed ; and even under the 
usurper Cromwell England was essen- 
tially free. Listen to some brief testi- 
mony on this point. Bancroft says: 
" Cromwell was one of those rare men 
whom even his enemies cannot name 

The farmer of Huntingdon, accustomed 
only to rural occupations, unnoticed till 
he was more than forty years of age. en- 
gaged in no higher plots than how to im- 

prove the returns of his farm, and fill bis 
orchard with choice fruit, of a sudden 
1 ■■: :<■!" felw fees* onicvr in ike 8<f!t!sh ar- 
my, and the greatest statesman of his 
time ; subverted the English constitution, 
which had been the work of centuries. 
held in his own grasp the liberties vrhich. 
the English people had iixed in their 
affections, and cast a 
new mould. Religious peace, sach as 
England, till now, has never again seen, 
flourished under his calmer mediation ; 
justice found its way even among Elie re- 
motest Highlands of Scotland: com- 
merce filled the English marts wit a pros- 
perous activity under his powerful pro- 
tection ; his fleets rode triumphant in the 
West Indies; Xova Scotia submitted to 
his orders without a struggle ; the Dutch 
begged of him for peace as for a toon; 
Louis XIV. was humiliated; the pride of 
Spain was humbled ; the Protestants of 
Piedmont breathed their prayers in secu- 
rity : the glory of the English name was 
spread throughout the world." 

Such, too, is the concurrent testimony 
of all historians, both friends and foes. 
Even Clarendon admits his ability as a 
statesman and his successful administra- 
tion. He applies to him what was said 
of Cinna, '* Ausum eum quae nemo aude- 
ret bonus, perfecisse quae a nullo nisi for- 
tissimo pertici possent." The same prej- 
udiced historian adds: "He reduced 
three nations to obedience at home, and 
it is hard to say which feared him most, 
France, Spain or the Low Countries :" 
and while he thinks that he will be look- 
ed upon by posterity as ;1 a brave, wick- 
ed man," he admits that •• he had some 
good qualities which have caused the 
memory of some men. in all ages, to be 
celebrated." The best men and the wis- 
est men in the kingdom admitted the 
equity of Cromwell's administration. 
Such men as Milton. Locke, an i Cud- 
worth eulogized, and we trust, si:: -erely 
too. the virtues of the Protector. Xever 
had England been so prosperous. Xever 
had her subjects before enjoyed such 
freedom of worship. Cromwell was far, 
very far in advance of the religious men 
of his own times in toleration. He air- 
ways maintained that men had a right to 


think and act for themselves in matters of made the English nation the freest, the 
religion, and that, as long as they behav- happiest people on earth. The irr.e dif- 

s was 

ed peaceably Lucy Were lice to dtsseat 
from the magistrate and the priest. To 
his parliament in 1654. who had failed to 
regulate matters in religion as he wished, 
he said : '• Those who were sound in the 
faith, how proper was it for them to la- 
bor for liberty, for a just liberty, that 
men should not be trampled upon for 
their consciences? Had not they labor- 
ed but lately under the weight of perse- 
cutions, and was it tit for them to sit 
heavily upon others? Is it ingenuous to 
ask liberty and not give it? What great- 
er hypocrisy than for those who were op- 
pressed by the bishops to become the 
greatest oppressors themselves as soon 
as the yoke was removed? "Cromwell 
ever acted in accordance with these sen- 
timents. Though some religious impos- 
tors were punished during his Protector- 
ate by the Parliament, it was not done 
by his approbation or consent. lie was 
liberal in opinion and practice. He was 
a sincere and honest Independent, both 
as a citizen and a monarch. His views of 
Apostolic succession wonld be not a little 

iere&oe befrw&ea him s*j$ C! 
this: Charles ruled for his own advan- 
tage; Cromwell for the advantage of the 
people. Charles sought to aggrandize 
himself. Cromwell, the nation. Charles 
wished to compel a uniformity of *:-elief ; 
Cromwell aimed at a unity of spirit and 
action. Charles impoverished the nation; 
Cromwell enriched it. Charles d=d be- 
fore his enemies; Cromwell ssbdued 
them. Charles failed to command the 
respect of his own subjects; Cromwell 
gained the respect of the whole world. 
Charles contended for prerogative : Crom- 
well for principles. The Court of Charles 
was the resort of intriguing politicians, 
fawning sycophants and shamelf ss har- 
lots; the Court of Cromwell wii little 
more than a well regulated chris: ; ..:,ii fam- 
ily, characterised by simplicity, purity 
and" decorum. Such was Oliver the Pro- 
tector. England has never known his 
equal. The conqueror of Xap. _>;-p.. the 
"iron duke" had not a tithe of his liber- 
ality and far-reaching sagacity. The 
character of Cromwell will never be ap- 

unpalatable at Oxford at the present predated till the principles he advocated 

time. Of this he says : " I speak not, 1 
thank God it is far from my heart— for a 
ministry deriving itself from the Papacy, 
and pretending to that which is so much 
insisted on — Succession. The true suc- 
cession is through the Spirit given in its 
measure. The Spirit is given for that 

have beeome popular in England. That 
time hastens on apace. During the last 
half century whole mountains of mean 
slanders have been rolled from the clay 
of the insulted hero. Another half cen- 
tury will reveal to an admiring world the 
man Oliver as he was, such as Milton 

use. To make proper speakers forth of saw him when he penned the fallowing 
God's eternal truth.. and that's right Sue- lines : 

cession. " With all the theological light 
of the 19th century who can define Suc- 
cession better? Who at this day enter- 
tains juster views of religious freedom 
and of the true end of a church organi- 
zation than did Oliver Cromwell? Here 
is no scourging, no boring of tongues, no 
cutting off of ears and slitting of noses 
for dissent, as in the days of the sainted 
martyr, Charles. No, if Cromwell had 
not been thwarted by his Parliament, 
plotted against by the royalists, insulted 
and abused by sectaries he would have 

" Cromwell, our chief of men who through a 

Not of war only but of detractions rule, 
Guided by faith and matchless fortitude, 
To peace and truth thy glorious w ay hast 

And on the neck of crowned fortune proud 
Hast reared God's trophies, and h_s -^orK pur- 
While Darwent'sstream with blood of Scots im- 
And Dunbar field resounds thy praises loud ; 
And Worcester's laureate wreath yes much re- 
To conquer still : peace hath her \i stories 
No less renowned than war ; new toes arise 
Threat'niug to bind our souls wiih secular 

Help us to save free conscience fxorn tie paw 
Of hireling wolves whose gospel is iiieirmaw." 

120 SORROW. 



Sorrow sits and softly sings 

While sbe flings 

O'er the strings 
Of her lute her lingers white, 
With tear-diamonds bedight. 

Diamonds deck her, head and foot, 

Well they suit 

On her lute, 
Glitter, glitter, like the rain, 
Sparkle, sparkle, without stain. 

Every diamond is a tear; 

Jewels dear; 

Without fear 
Sorrow wears them and doth shine 
As she were a diamond-mine. 

Sorrow gathers hour by hour 

Such a dower, 

Such a shower 
Of the bright, translucent gems 
Which she wears in diadems. 

When her holy work is done 

Every one 

In the sun 
Glows and flashes living light 
That would dazzle mortal sight. 

Now she comes and sits by me, 

Moments fiee 

Dreamily ; 
As I weep she closer clings, 
Working, ever, as she sings. 

Sorrow! Sorrow! go thy way, 

Do not stay 

Here to-day, 
I've shed tears enough for thee, 
Haste away ! I will be free ! 

But my guest doth still remain 

And again 

Falls the rain 
Of my tears, which she doth take 
Singing low, " For faith's sweet sake!' 






An early occupation of civilization is 
tilling the soil. In a new country farm- 
ing is often the main support of the pop- 
ulation. The first settlers in Hopkin- 
ton were mostly farmers. The con- 
dition of agriculture was, of necessi- 
ty, crude. Its profits were uncertain in 
a corresponding degree. Besides the 
natural uncertainty of the seasons, the 
lack of intercommunication between lo- 
calities, and the attendant imperfect 
means of transportation, made the con- 
sequences of local failure more disas- 
trous. The soil, however, was new and 
fertile. When it brought forth it did so 
abundantly. It was only when it failed 
through drought, flood or cold that pop- 
ulation suffered— mostly through the dif- 
ficulty of communicating with immedi- 
ate and abundant supplies. 

As population and social facilities in- 
creased. the farms were not only self-sup- 
portive, but on fertile years corn and 
grain were stored in the granaries of the 
industrious. Consequently, in the earlier 
times, the farmers of Hopkinton sold 
corn and wheat, instead of buying them 
as they do now. In the case of infertile 
seasons, the stores of accumulated pro- 
ducts became available in the suppres- 
sion of famine. In 1S1G. there occurred 
•a prominent illustration in kind. The 
year was very unfruitful through an in- 
tensity of cold. On inauguration day in 
June, there was snow to the depth of 
four inches on a level. An early frost in 
autumn killed all the corn. The farm- 
ers cut it up and shocked it, but, being 
in the milk, it heated and spoiled. As a 
consequence of the induced scarcity, 
corn sold in Hopkintou as high as $3.50 
a bushel. 

Corn and grain have been sold in this 

town and taken to Vermont for consump- 
tion. People then could not anticipate 
the times that were coming. One of our 
townsmen tells us he very well remem- 
bers the first time his father bought a 
barrel of Hour. The price paid was only 
four dollars, but the act of purchase 
was deemed so extravagant as to be al- 
most culpable. It could not then be 
popularly forseen that the time was at 
hand when it would be almost as rare for 
a farmer in Hopkinton to raise his own 
flour as it was then rare for him to pur- 
chase it. 

In the earlier times, the production 
and maintenance of farm animals was 
also much larger. In districts where it 
is now comparatively rare to find a yoke 
of oxen, the supply of this kind of stock 
was multitudinous. Nothing was more 
common than to own several yokes of 
large oxen, to say nothing of the usually 
attendant array of steers. Not more 
than fifty years ago. Mr. R. E. French, 
our present townsman, seeking cattle 
for the down-country markets, bought 
over seventy head in one day. They 
were all purchased in one district in this 
town, and the transaction required less 
time than half of the day. At the pres- 
ent time it is nothing uncommon for a 
man to travel over parts of several towns 
to buy a single yoke of oxen. 

Besides the usual complement of horned 
stock and general farm animals, there 
was at one time quite a specialty in 
sheep. Stephen Sibley and Joseph 
Barnard were prominent growers of this 
kind of stock. Their flocks were count- 
ed by hundreds. Considerable effort 
was made to secure improved animals. 
Stock was imported from Vermont, Xew 
York, and perhaps other states, and the 
quality of the local flocks materially ad- 



vanced. The prosperity of this branch 
of farming industry soon met with an 
vrnoimnious defeat. Th£ revew»e-i&ws 
of 1832 and 1833, reducing the duties on 
imports and discouraging local manu- 
factures, so reduced the price of wool 
as to materially depress the interests of 
sheep growers. The flocks declined. A 
little impulse was given to this branch 
of industry during the war of 1S61, ow- 
ing to the demands for wool created by 
the arm}', but it was only temporary. 

The soil of this town was adapted to 
growing all the staple crops of New 
England, but its subjection to the uses of 
the husbandman was a work of prodi- 
gious effort. The dense, heavy forests 
ao extensively prevailing, were subdued 
by labor without direct profit. Wood 
and timber, so much in excess of the de- 
mand, were comparatively worthless. 
Even many years after the complete oc- 
cupation of the township, a large pine 
tree, several feet in diameter and full of 
clear staff, was sold on the stump for the 
insignificant sum of twenty-five cents. 
The freedom with which the best of tim- 
ber was employed in the humblest uses 
of building attests the low marketable 
estimate placed upon it. Acres upon 
acres of primitive forest were cut down, 
the logs rolled in heaps, and the fallen 
debris— trunks, branches and boughs — 
burned to ashes. Following this ex- 
ceedingly laborious toil, came not only 
the difficult task o? plowing and plant- 
ing, but the almost endless labor of re- 
moving the rocks and stones that thick- 
ly cumbered the surface of the ground. 
Stones were utilized in the division of 
lots by walls, which were often thick, 
or double. On an arfcient location on 
Putney's Hill, can be seen stone walls 
that are six or eight feet in thickness. 
Heaps of stone thrown up in waste 
places are significant monuments of the 
severe toil through which the early in- 
habitants of this town reclaimed the 

With experience and increased social 
facilities, came improvements in the quali- 
ty of the products of the soil. The in- 
troduction of improved varieties of 
fruit was a more notable event on ac- 

count of the facilities for improvement 
afforded by the process of grafting. 
A'^"ui SL-venty y&a&a -go the ihiki- 
win apple w r as introduced iuto this 
towm b} r Stephen Gage. Since then it 
has become the standard winter apple in 
every household in the community. We 
need not speak of the many varieties of 
roots, seeds and scions that have come 
and gone, or come and remained-, since 
the earlier times. The history of our 
towu, in this respect, is substantially 
uniform with that of many others in its 

Upon the ancient farm of Mrs. Eliza 
Putney, upon Putney's Hill, lies an an- 
cient broken grindstone, a symbolic 
relic of a past rude husbandry. It is of 
common granite rock, and for a long 
time was the only grindstone in the im- 
mediate vicinity. People came long dis- 
tances to grind their scythes upon it. 
Before its use, people from this tow r n 
used to go to Concord to grind their 
scythes. A general scythe-grinding took 
place only occasionally. The scythes 
were kept sharp with whetstones as long 
as practicable, and then a party gathered 
up the dull scythes in the neighborhood 
and took them away for grinding. 
Snaths at that time were made by hand. 
The axe-handles were straight. The 
plows were at first of wood, faced with 
iron. Implements of all kinds were 
rude and imperfect, besides being mostly 
the products of the skill of the local 
blacksmith and carpenter. The intro- 
duction of modern implements has been 
a gradual but comparatively thorough 
work. The ancient richness of the soil 
having been in a great measure exhaust- 
ed, the introduction of fertilizers from 
outside has become a permanent traffic. 
The utilization of the newer and richer 
fields of the West has brought to our 
doors an abundance of corn and grain, 
and the accidental forms of cereal pro- 
ducts. In the accidental improvements 
of farming— draining, building, etc., — 
our town has made creditable progress. 
The proximity of Hopkinton to Concord 
and Fisherville, populous places, has 
latterly given an impulse to the depart- 
ment of the dairy. Improved dairy 



stock has been introduced to a consider- 
able extent. Among our most enter- 
prising farmers may be mentioned Jo- 
seph Barnard. James M. Connor. Wood- 
biiryjHardy, John W. Page. S. S. Page. 
Horace Edmunds, H. H. Crowell, and 


In 1736, Henry Mellen received a prom- 
ise of a gratuity of twenty-tive pounds 
from the incipient township, on condi- 
tion that by the first of October of the 
same year he should erect a mill " on the 
reservation" and keep it in repair for 
three years next following, with the im- 
plied privilege of each proprietor to ob- 
tain sawing at a stipulated price. The 
list of proprietors' and other lots given 
on the plan of occupation originally 
drawn gives no specific location of the 
l * reservation. " Wherever this reserva- 
tion was. if there was ever a mill built 
upon it, the structure was probably not 
located on any very considerable stream. 
The circumstances of the new township 
would hardly admit of an immediate im- 
portant manufactory of lumber. In 
very early times there was a mill on the 
brook now utilized by Dea. Timothy 
Colby, but farther up than the present 
lumber works, at the head of the present 
pond. The foundations of the ancient 
structure can be seen to this day. We 
have heard it said that this spot was the 
site of the first mill in town. It may 
have been. but we cannot prove it.* From 
the few facts in our possession we con- 
clude that, after the permanent settle- 
ment of the town mill.- increased with 
considerable rapidity. In 1791 the fol- 
lowing persons were taxed for mills: — 
Nathaniel Clement, Moses Titcomb, Jer- 
emiah Story. Amos Bailey. Levi Bailey, 
Joseph Barnard. John Currier. Eliphilet 
Poor, Abraham Powell and Simeon Dow, 
Jr. The principal business done at 
these mills was probably sawing lumber, 
grinding corn and grain, or fulling and 
dressing cloth. Nathaniel Clement and 

♦Since writing the above we have re- 
ceived information which leads us to be- 
lieve that the first mill in town was lo- 
cated on the .site of the old Philip Brown 
mill described in this article. 

Jeremiah Story were in partnership, con- 
tinuing so. probably, till 1798, when both 
ceased to be tax^u for property in mills. 
Their first mill, possibly in activity be- 
fore 1791, was on or near the site of the 
old Phillip Brown mill, just east of the 
village, below what is now known as Mill's 
Pond. Moses Titcoinb's mill was after- 
wards known as Webber's ; the site is no 
the well-known Sibley farm, now owned 
by Dr. C. P. Gage, of Concord. Joseph 
Barnard's mill was also on Dol- 
loph's brook. so-called. near its outlet into 
the Contoocook river. John Currier's 
mill was in " Stumprleld," on the well- 
known brook coursing through that dis- 
trict. Abraham Powell's mill was on 
the Contoocook river, at West Hopkin- 
ton, near Powell's bridge, on the present 
mill site. Simeon Dow's mill was at 
Contoocook, as was the mill of Eliphilet 
Poor, the first in this location. We can- 
not give the location of the others. 

In the earlier times, manufactures 
were very much scattered. In fact ev- 
ery household was a manufacturing es- 
tablishment in a small way. Once small 
mills and shops, manufactories of lum- 
ber, leather, and various domestic arti- 
cles in whole or in part, were scattered 
through the town, occupying nearly or 
quite every available water privilege, 
while some, like the tanneries, were of- 
ten on highland locations. Since the 
earlier times, many men have been en- 
gaged in manufactures in this town. 
We can only mention some of the more 
important establishments and owners. 

The principal water-power being on 
the Contoocook river, at the village of 
the same name, which has grown up in 
a large measure in consequence of the 
local, natural privileges offered by the 
stream, there have been a number of the 
more important works in this locality. 
Mills of greater or less importance were 
located early at this point, among the 
operators being Benjamin. Hills, who 
was taxed for mill property in this 
town as early as 1795*, and whose family 
name gave the euphonious title of "Hill's 

♦In 1797-99, Moses Hills was taxed for 
Mill property in this town. 


industries in hopkinton. 

Bridge " to the present village of Con- 
toocook. As the place increased in size 
rnd importance more notable works were 
established. As soon as 1825, Abram 
Brown was a mill operator or owner. 
In company with John Burnham, he car- 
ried on a notable business in the lumber 
and grain line for about thirty years. 
The grist mill operated by these two 
men was conducted by the sons of John 
Burnham till the lire of 1873, which con- 
sumed it. In 1826, or thereabouts, Joab 
Patterson established himself here in the 
business of a clothier. Subsequently he 
took into partnership his brother, David 
N., and till about 18G0 the two carried on 
business, but subsequently to 1844 fol- 
lowing the manufacture of woolen cloths, 
which they sold largely to people in the 
vicinity in exchange for wool or cash. 
For a short time another brother was 
connected with them. On the north side 
of the river, a mill, on the site of the 
present saw mill operated b)' the Burn- 
haai brothers, was built by Hamilton E. 
Perkins about 1835. It was subsequent- 
ly burned and rebuilt. The present 
grist mill, owned by Col. E. C. Bailey, 
occupies a building erected for miscella- 
neous purposes by H. E. Perkins a short 
time after his first. Messrs. Kempton & 
Allen began the manufacture of mack- 
erel kits about 1850, first in the present 
Burnham saw r mill; afterwards one or 
both occupied the old Patterson fac- 
tory, where business was kept up till the 
fire of 1873. For a few years subse- 
quently to 1864, Messrs. Jonathan M. & 
George W. Morrill carried on woolen 
manufacturing in the present grist mill 
building, which was then the property 
of Capt. Paul R. George, or his heirs. 
In 1874 the brothers Morrill & Kempton, 
kit manufacturers, erected their present 
steam mill about a half mile north of the 
village. Grinding was also done at their 
mill during the first years of its exist- 
ence. A year or two subsequently to 
the erection of this mill, Colonel Bailey 
put in the machinery of his present grist 
mill. He is at present the exclusive 
owner of the site of the water power at 


About 181^, Thomas Kast began the 

manufacture of leather on the spot now 
occupied by Horace J. Chase, employing 
t-;e pit's* •■■-!{. walv.-.- power. He kept up 
the business for about thirty years, and 
then sold out to Jonathan Osgood. In 
1852 the works passed into the hands of 
Mr. Chase, who has made numerous im- 
portant additions and improvements to 
them. This establishment has been 
twice burned out — once during its occu- 
pancy by Mr. Kast and once since owned 
by Mr. Chase. About 1S30. Benjamin F. 
Clough established a mill at what is now 
known as " Cloughville.'" Several sons 
of Mr. Clough have since been engaged 
in different kinds of wooden manufac- 
tures here, and several mills have at 
times been in operation. As soon as 
1835, John Smiley became engaged as a 
miller at West Hopkinton, on the site of 
the old Powell mill. For about thirty 
years " Smiley's Mills" was a popular 
grinding station for the vicinity. Grind- 
ing is no longer done at this station. 
The traveler who now takes his way in 
the valley between Putney and Beech 
Hills, crossing the tortuous Dolloph's 
Brook where it runs easterly across the 
road, at the site of what was formerly 
Richard Kimball's mill, will hardly con- 
ceive that here, where is now nothing 
but trees and bushes, was once a mill 
three stories in height, where, in addi- 
tion to sawing lumber, the managers 
ground and bolted a3 good meal and 
flour as perhaps can be made at any 
place. Yet it was so. Several parties 
were at different times interested in thi3 
mill. Nathaniel Clement and Jeremiah 
Story once did business in partnership at 
this location. The Clement family was 
prominently connected with this mill in 
later times. The mill site was in the 
possession of the Story family till 1877. 
About forty-five years ago, much en- 
thusiasm was aroused over the manufac- 
ture of silk. Silk worms and mulberry 
trees were procured from older ' New 
England States and work begun in ear- 
nest. Silk thread and cloth were manu- 
factured, but the enterprise died about as 
suddenly as it was born. The products 
of this business cost more than the in- 
come. Our people could not successful- 



Jv compete with the cheaper labor of Isaac Long was a book-hinder and sel 
gtiropes In some instances remnants of 
the old mulberry orchards can be to this 

dav seen. 

The following parties are taxed for 
mill property the present year:— Eli A. 
Boutw 11. Charles F. Clough. Benjamin 
C. Clough, Timothy Colby, Henry H. 
Crowell, Carr & Wheeler, Wadsworth 
Davis, Amos Frye, Jr., Kempton & Mor- 
rill, Nathaniel V. Stevens, Samuel Spof- 
ford, Nahum M. Whittier. 


Trade is essenti »1 to civilization. An 
incipient community has its quota of 
tradesmen. Soon after the first occupa- 
tion of the township of Hopkinton, 
stores, or domestic trading posts, for the 
accommodation of the public, began to 
spring up. Reliable data of the earliest 
conditions of trade in this town are very 
meagre. In 1791, the following persons 
were taxed for stock in trade and money 
at interest:— Capt. Joshua Bailey. Capt. 
Chase, Daniel Herrick, Samuel Harris, 
Capt. Stephen Harriman. Theophilis 
Stanley and Benjamin Wiggin. It is rea- 
sonable to believe that only a part 
of these were engaged in actual traffic in 
merchandise. Some may have been 
small manufacturers. Theophilis Stan- 
ley and Benjamin Wiggin were tavern- 
ers, though Wiggin also kept a store, 
while Stanley worked a tannery. 

There was a combination of circum- 
stances tending, in the earlier times, to 
make Hopkinton a comparatively thriv- 
ing trading post. Besides the natural 
wants of the local population, an incen- 
tive was afforded in the fact that for 
many years Hopkinton was a shire town 
of old Hillsborough County; the town 
also occupied a prominent position on 
the northern frontier of New Hampshire 
settlements. In consequence of these 
. circumstances, the local business inter- 

ler; David Young a cabinet-maker. 
There were others whose business we 
cannot describe, unless they were com- 
mon traders. In 1810 there were Abram 
Brown, Thomas W. Colby, Reuben 
French, Ebenezer Lerned, Isaac Proc- 
tor, Theophilis Stanley. Stephen Sibley, 
Joseph Town, and Thomas Williams; in 
1820, Buswell & Way, Calvin Campbell, 
Thomas W. Colby, Timothy Darling, 
George Dean, Thomas Kast, Isaac Long, 
Jr., Ira Morrison, Stephen Sibley, Jo- 
seph B. Town, and Thomas Williams. 

For a time it was thought that Hop- 
kinton might become the permanent cap- 
ital of the State. The year 1S05 decided 
in favor of Concord. It may be said that 
here was the beginning of a tide of 
events that ultimately took away the 
business ascendancy of this town, which 
rapidly decliued in thrift in the latter 
part of the first half of the present cen- 
tury. In the days of greatest prosperity 
Hopkinton village was the center of a 
large wholesale trade. Town & Ballard 
were wholesale and retail merchants, 
occupying the building now used by 
Kimball & Co. The whole lower floor 
of this building was in use by this firm, 
and numerous clerks found busy em- 
ployment, while strong teams from the 
upper country resorted here for the pro- 
ducts of trade and barter. During this 
period the stores of Thomas W. Colby, 
Lerned & Sibley, and Thomas Williams 
were notable places of business. Colby's 
store occupied the corner now used by 
Gage & Knowlton ; Lerned & Sibley, the 
building now occupied by Miss Lydia 
Story; Thomas Williams, a building 
standing between John S. Kimball's and 
the Congregational meeting house. At 
this time, besides other stores, were the 
usual attendant establishments repre- 
senting the multiple business wants of a 

ests advanced rapidly for a number of complex community. 

years. In 1800 the following persons 
were taxed for stock in trade :— Joshua 
Bailey, Esq., Samuel Darling, Reuben 
French. Ebenezer Lerned. Isaac Long, 
Nathaniel Procter, Theophilis Stanley, 
Silas Thayer, Samuel G. Town, Town & 
Ballard, and David Young. Of these 

In the earlier times trade was not so 
closely confined to the villages as now. 
One of the outposts of business was on 
the Concord road, near the present resi- 
dence of Mr. William Long. Nathaniel 
Proctor was a trader at this point, as 
mav have been others. Different parties 



have also traded in a store that stood 
near the present residence of Mr. Perley 
Beck, at rhe four corners at •*' Stump- 
lield."' Among those trading in Hopkin- 
ton village in later times Joseph Stan- 
wood, Stephen B. Sargent, James Fel- 
lows and Nathaniel Evans are prominent. 
Among the earlier traders in Contoocook 
was Solomon Phelps. Ebenezer Wyman 
came to Contoocook over forty years 
ago, and till lately has traded most of 
the time since, doing a miscellaneous 

business. Herrick Putnam and Isaac D. 
Merrill were also well known merchants 
in this ioeanry. 

The following parties are at present 
engaged in trade in this town : — Gage & 
Knowlton, Kimball & Co.. Curtice & Ste- 
vens, W. H. Hardy. Rufus P. Flanders. 
G. H. Ketchum (stoves, tin and hard- 
ware), Miss Julia M. Johnson (ladies' 
goods). The first two firms mentioned 
are in the lower village; the other par- 
ties in Contoocook. 






This act of Parliament went into ef- 
fect on the 14th day of June. 1774. The 
harbor of Boston was blocked up by four 
large ships of war, with orders to inter- 
dict all trade by sea. Five regiments of 
troops were stationed in different parts 
of the town to prevent trade with the 
country. The intent of the statute was 
to punish the rebellious citizens ot that 
town, who had not only refused to pay 
duties on British goods, but had dared to 
throw overboard cargoes of imported 
teas, in vindication of the claim that tax- 
ation and representation should go to- 
gether, or, in other words, that the col- 
onies should be heard before taxes on im- 
ports should be imposed. Again, Bos- 
ton had complained of the quartering of 
troops within the limits of their city in a 
time of peace, and as a consequence of 
this tyrannical act the massacre of March, 
1770, had ensued and a hostile spirit be- 
twoon the citizens and troops had been 
engendered. The tendency of the Port 
Bill was to produce immediate want and 
suffering. The ordinary commerce and 
trade of the town being prohibited, the 
industries of the citizens destroyed, 

their sources of living dried up, their 
only resource left was either to abandon 
their homes entirely, or to appeal to the 
charity and liberality of their friends 
elsewhere for a supply of the necessaries 
of life. The appeal was made. The 
friends of liberty yielded a ready 
response. The conduct of Britain was 
everywhere regarded as oppressive, and 
a deep sympathy was felt in behalf of 
the sufferers. The newspapers of the 
day inform us that the bells in the town 
of Falmouth (now Portland) and in the 
city of Philadelphia were tolled all day, 
and all business suspended on the afore- 
said 14th day of June, in consequence of 
this grevious act of Parliament being en- 
forced upon the inhabitants of Boston. 
Large meetings of the citizens of Phila- 
delphia, Baltimore, New York, Ports- 
mouth, and various other cities and 
towns assembled, and passed resolutions 
recommending the people to purchase no 
more British goods, and to consume 
no more tea, strongly sympathizing 
with the oppression of Boston, and ex- 
horting her people to stand firm at this 
trying crisis. 



The Provincial Congress of Massa- 
chusetts and Xew Hampshire, represent- 
ing the people of each State, among their 
spirited resolves, requested their fellow 
citizens to contribute liberally to alle- 
viate the burdens of those persons who 
are the more immediate objects of minis- 
terial resentment, and who are suffering 
in the common cause of their country. 
Donations soon began to how into the 
town of Boston from all quarters. On 
the 20th day of June. 1774, Newbury- 
port contributed two hundred pounds. 
June 30th, Charleston, South Carolina, 
sent two hundred and five casks of rice. 
The editor of the South Carolina Ga- 
zette severely critisized the character of 
the Port Bill, stigmatizing it as being not 
a production of Lord North, but of h — I. 
On the 15th [of July. Wethersrield, Conn., 
and vicinity, sent one thousand bushels 
of grain for the Boston poor. On the 
same day the editor of the Boston Chron- 
icle remarked " that this town was vis- 
ited by Col. Putnam, of Pomfret, Conn., 
a hero renowned, and well known 
throughout North America. His gen- 
erosity led him to Boston to succor his 
oppressed brethren. A fine drove of 
sheep was one article of comfort he was 
commissioned to present to us.'* Put- 
nam saw enough at this visit to induce 
him, when first hearing of the battle of 
Lexington, some months after, to leave 
his plow in the furrow, and fly to the res- 
cue of his friends. 

Soon a quantity of provisions was re- 
ceived from the friends of liberty in Que- 
bec, and one hundred pounds sterling 
from Montreal, and one thousand pounds 
worth of West India rum from the Island 
of Barbadoes. A constituent of Edmund 
Burke, resident in Bristol, England, 
wrote to his friend and correspondent 
here to pay on his account fifty pounds, 
and five hundred pounds, if. in his judg- 
ment, the good cause demanded it. We 
cannot stop to recount the liberal dona- 
tions from the State of Massachusetts 
and other States. Some of the donations 
from our State are not defined. The ac- 
count is quite general in this language : — 
This day was received from Londonder- 
ry. Amherst, Hampton, New Ipswich, 

etc., provisions, money, etc., for the re- 
lief of Boston. In other cases we have the 
foHewiRg iroms : IVn-mnuth contributed 
three hundred pounds, Exeter two hund- 
red pounds. Rye twenty pounds. South 
Hampton fifteen pounds. Temple ten 
pounds. Poplin (Fremont) her pair of 
oxen, delivered to Mr. Foster by Zach- 
eus Clough, Esq. Mr. Foster was chair- 
man of the donation committee for the 
town of [Charlestown, which was em- 
braced in the .common calamity with 
Boston. John Sullivan, Esq., afterwards 
Gen. Sullivan, of Durham, and the min- 
ister of the parish, Eev. John Adams, 
constituted a committee who collected 
some funds in Durham, and the vicinity, 
and forwarded the same by a messenger 
no less distinguished than Alexander 
Scammell. who was then a student at 
law in Sullivan's office, accompauied by 
the following letter, which we give for 
purpose of showing the spirit of the 
hour. The letter was addressed to the 
donation committee of Boston, of which 
Samuel Adams was chairman : — 

"Durham, Nov. 21. 1774. 

Gentlemen — We take pleasure in trans- 
mitting to you by Mr. Scammell, a few 
cattle, with a small sum of money, which 
a number of persons in this place, ten- 
derly sympathising with our suffering 
brethren in Boston, have contributed 
toward their support. With this, or 
soon after, you will receive the donation 
of a number in Lee, a parish lately set 
off from this town, and in a few days the 
contribution of Dover, Newmarket, and 
other adjacent towns. What you here- 
with receive comes mostly from the in- 
dustrious yeomanry of this parish. We 
have but few persons of affluent means, 
but these have most cheerfully contrib- 
uted to the relief of the distressed in 
your metropolis. This is considered by 
us not as a gift, or an act of charity, 
but a debt of justice. It is a small 
part of what we are in duty bound to 
communicate to those truly noble and 
patriotic advocates of American free- 
dom who are bravely standing in the gap 
between us and slavery, defending the 
common interest of a whole continent, 
now gloriously struggling in the cause 
of common liberty. Upon you the eyes 
of all America are now fixed. Upon 
your invincible patience, fortitude and 
resolution, depends all that is dear to us 
and our posterity. 

May that superintending Gracious Be- 
ing, whose ears are ever open to the 



cries of the oppressed, in answer to the 
incessant prayers of his people, defend 
onv jtist cause, turn the counsels of our 
enemies into foolishness and deliver ns 
from the hands of our oppressors, and 
make those very measures by which they 
are endeavoring to compass our destruc- 
tion the means of fixing our invaluable 
rights and privileges upon a more firm 
aud lasting basis. It seems to us that it 
may prove to the ultimate advantage of 
this good cause in America, that the at- 
tacks of our enemies are made to that 
quarter where the virtue and firmness of 
the inhabitants could brave the shafts of 
the military tyrants and set at deriance 
the threats of an exasperated aud des- 
potic minister. 

We are pleased to find that the meth- 
ods sought to divide, have happily united 
us, and by every new act of oppression 
our union has been more and more 
strengthened; and we can with truth as- 
sure you. gentlemen, that in this quarter 
we are engaged to a man in your de- 
fence, and of the common cause. 

We are ready to communicate of our 
substance largely, as your necessities 
shall require, and with our estates to 
give also our lives, and mingle our blood 
with yours in the common sacrifice to 
liberty. We reneuedly assure you we will 
not submit to wear t tie chains of slavery 
which a profligate and arbitrary ministry 
are preparing for all of us. That Heaven 
may support you under your distressing 
circumstances, and send you a speedy 
and happy deliverance lrom your pres- 
ent troubles, is the earnest prayer of 
your cordial friends, and very humble 


Sf£5W Committee. 

This letter was published in the Bos- 
ton Chronicle at the time. Its deter- 
mined zeal and fervor naturally tended 
to influence the public mind, and to pre- 
pare the friends of liberty to strike for 
the common cause. 

The patriots of Boston, amid all their 
severe trials, were encouraged by salu- 
tary advice and substantial aid to perse- 
vere to the end by the lovers of freedom 
everywhere. They were doomed to en- 
counter the perils and privations of 'two 
sieges. The first, commencing with the 
14th of June. 1774, continued about one 
year, until open hostilities commenced, 
and was prosecuted to gratify the ven- 

geance of a spiteful British Ministry. 
During this year the town lost, nearly 
one-third oi her population, who felt 
compelled to remove in order to obtain 
the means of living. Many of those who 
remained, who had been in comfortable 
circumstances, were reduced to abject 
poverty. All classes of people were 
made poorer; none were enriched. After 
the engagement at Bunker Hill, the be- 
siegers found themselves besieged by land, 
and for the next nine months the Ameri- 
can army held the avenues to the town, 
and the hopes of the patriots were 
revived and their condition somewhat 
improved by a friendly intercourse 
with the troops without. During 
these nine months the British troops 
were obliged to depend upon their 
shipping for provisions. The patriots 
within the town derived much consola- 
tion from the fact that the British troops 
were involved with them in a common 
suffering for a supply of necessary food 
and fuel. In March, 1776, Washington 
was prepared to bombard the town. 

This resort was expected by the patri- 
ots, and the owners of property feared 
the results. Gen. Howe threatened to 
fire the town if Washington persisted in 
his purpose. Finally Howe proposed to 
evacuate the town if no attach were 
made. This arrangement was concurred 
in, and on the 18th of March Howe with- 
drew his army, giving relief and great 
joy to the inhabitants of the town. 

In the afternoon of the next Sunday 
after the evacuation, in presence of the 
American army. Rev. Mr. Bridge, Chap- 
lain in his brother's regiment, preached 
an appropriate discourse from II. Kings. 
7th chap.. 7th verse — "Wherefore, they 
arose and fled in the twilight. and left their 
tents, and their horses, and their asses, 
even the camp as it was, and fled for their 
life.*' The application of the text was as 
follows: "The text describes the flight 
of our enemies, as they left their tents, 
and their horses, and quite a number of 
Tories for asses. 









VOL. U. 

DECEMBER, 1878. 

NO. 5. 


[The- following sketch is from the history of Boscawen, by C. C. Coffin, recently published.] 

The subject of this sketch was born in 
the town of Boscawen, April 22. 1S06. At 
an early age. his parents removed to Dun- 
barton, and thence to Bow, where his 
early years were passed on a farm, at 
tending the district school about six 
weeks during the winter. He had an in- 
satiable desire for information, and de- 
voured all the books he could lay his 
hands on, reading through the long win- 
ter evenings by the light of a pitch pine 
knot, or a tallow candle. 

He fitted for" college at Hopkinton 
Academy, and graduated at Dartmouth 
in 1S34, Hon. Daniel Clark of Manches- 
ter, of the U. S. District Court for this 
District, being one of his classmates. 

Soon after leaving college he taught 
school in Concord, and, in company with 
Hon. Asa Fowler, edited the New Hamp- 
shire Literary Gazette. He was after- 
wards principal of the Hopkinton Acad- 
emy for one year, and in 1830 became, 
principal of the High School at Lowell, 
Mass. He held that position for live 
years, and in 1841 removed to Manches- 
ter, where he has since continued to re- 

ride. During his residence at Hopkinton 
and Lowell he studied law," and on going 
to Manchester was admitted to the Bar, 
and became a law partner with Hon. 
George W. Morrison. In 1S42 he pur- 
chased an interest in a weekly newspa- 
per, the Manchester Democrat, and de- 
voted a part of his time to editorial la- 
bors for about-a year. His par:-ership 
with Mr. Morrison was dissolved in 1S43, 
but he continued in the practice of his 
profession independently until 1S4S. In 
that year the Amoskeag Bank v.i = or- 
ganized, and he became its cashier and 
has continued in the banking ba=ines3 
since that time. 

Upon the organization of the Amoskeag 
Savings Bank, in 1S52, he became its 
Treasurer, and still holds the office. 
When the Amoskeag National Bank was 
organized to succeed the old A^jskeag 
Bank, in 1SG4. he became its President. 
He has been a Director in the People's 
Bank at Manchester since it was organ- 
ized in 1874; a Director in the Blodgett 
Edge Tool Company during the exigence 
of the corporation ; President and Trea- 



surer of the Ainoskeag Axe Company 
since its organization in 1S62 : a Director 
in the Harichester Gas Light Company 
since 1SG2; a Director in the Manchester 
Mills since the organization of the cor- 
poration in 1S74; Treasurer of the Con- 
cord & Portsmouth Railroad Company 
since 1S56; Treasurer of the Concord 
Railway Company in 1871-72 ; and is 
now Treasurer of the New England Loan 
Company, and President of the Eastern 
Railroad Company in Xew Hampshire. 

He was Clerk of the New Hampshire 
Senate in 1S43-M4, and was elected a 
member of that body from the 3d District 
in lS56-'57, and was President 'of the 
Senate in the latter year.' He was elected 
Councillor in lSGO-'Gl. and was Chairman 
of the War Committee of the Council 
during the first fifteen months of the War 
of the Rebellion. In that position he ex- 
hibited great ability and energy, and ren- 
dered efficient service to the state and the 
nation. He entered with his whole soul 
into the business of raising and equipping, 
troops, and won great praise from all 
parties for his efforts in this direction. 
The first eight regiments of infantry, the 
First New Hampshire Battery, together 
with four companies of cavalry and three 
companies of sharp-shooters, were or- 
ganized, equipped and sent to the front 
with the utmost dispatch, while Mr. Cur- 
rier was at the head of the War Commit- 
tee. In compliment to him, the rendez- 
vous of the Eighth Regiment at Man- 
chester was named "Camp Currier.*' 

Mr. Currier has been three times mar- 
ried. His first wife was Miss Lucretia 
Diistin to whom he was married, Dec. 8, 
183G. His second wife, to whom he was 
married September 5, 1847. was Miss 
Mary YV. Kidder. He was married to 
Miss Hannah A. Slade, his present wife, 
November 1G, 1869. 

He has had three children, one of 
whom, Charles M. Currier, survives, and 
is the Teller of the Amoskeag National 

Mr. Currier has an ardent iemperamer -. 
and versatile talent. His practical judg- 
ment is shown in the success oi the bank- 
ing institutions which he has managed 
for many years, and also in the success 
of the various other enterprises with 
which he has been connected In an official 
capacity. He is methodical and cautious 
in his habits, and has always sustained 
the reputation of being honorable and 
upright in all his business relations. 

He maintains a high rank as a scholar 
and, unlike many other men who have 
enjoyed the advantages of a liberal edu- 
cation, he has throughout his whole life 
taken a strong interest in the study of 
literature, science and philosophy. He 
retains a taste for the ancient classics 
and is quite familiar with the French. 
German, and several other modern lan- 
guages; he has written many pieces of 
poetry, at intervals of leisure, which are 
very creditable in taste and composition. 
lie is an independent thinker upon all 
subjects, and though he is decided in his 
convictions and frank in the avowal of 
his opinions, cheiishesa tolerant spirit, 
and entertains the highest respect for 
those with whom he is obliged to differ. 

By industry and prudence be has ac- 
quired a handsome fortune, and his resi- 
dence is a model of taste. He is liberal 
of his gifts to worthy objects and espec- 
ially to those which relate to intellectual 
culture. In 1S76 he presented to the 
Manchester City Library upwards of 700 
volumes of valuable books. — standard. 
classical, illustrated, ecclesiastical, and 
scientific. These books were numbered 
and classed in the catalogue of the libra- 
ry as the i% Currier Donation." In ac- 
knowledgment of this generous gift, res- 
olutions of thanks to Mr. Currier were 
passed in both branches of the City Gov- 
ernment, and by the Board of Trustees 
of the City Library. 

He has been for many year? a member 
of the Unitarian Society o( Manchester, 
and one of its most liberal benefactors. 



[Among the prominent men of the last generation, few are better known or more widely hon- 
ored tnan Governor Colby. Living in the quiet town of New London, he originated and carried 
on a variety of business operations, much in advance of his times. He was as active and success- 
ful in politics as in business- He held many important offices in town and state, and, in 1S45, 
was chosen Governor of New Hampshire. His only daughter was educated at New London 
Academy, and became tor some years, one of the most thorough and successful teachers our 
State has ever produced. She was afterwards married to -lamps Colgate, Esq., one of the most 
distinguished bankers of New York City. Mr. and Mrs. Colgate are widely known for their mu- 
nificent gifts to public institutions and private charities. Mrs. Colgate loves her native state . 
The following poetic tribute to the New Hampshire Hills, is from her pen:] 

New Hampshire hills ! New Hampshire hills 1 
Ye homes of rocks and purling rills. 
Of fir trees, huge and high. 
Bugged and rough against the sky 
With joy I greet your forms, once more 
My native hills, beloved of yore. 

Engraved upon my youthful heart 
With keener point than diamond's art, 
I see you when the world's asleep 
And memory wakes, with fancies deep, 
Visions of scenes, though old, still new,. 
Then lost in dreams. I gaze on you. 

New Hampshire hills ! New Hampshire hills ! 
The electric sound my spirit thrills, 
With thoughts of childish ecstacies, 
And dreams of glorious symphonies, 
While now as then, I see you stand. 
Erect to guard our granite land. 

I've watched you. at the early dawn, 
Before the shades of night had gone, 
Arrayed in robes of soft gray mist 
Before the sun your brow had kissed, 
Then laying this pure vest aside, 
Stand, nobly dressed in royal pride. 

I've seen you in the moon's full light, 
When every dell was brought to light ; 
When rock and leaf and crag lay bare, 
Suffused with gleaming, glint and glare, 
Then blent with tints that knew no name, 
Thy hues and dies seemed all the same. 



I've watched you when departing day 

Shed o'er your forms a softer rav. 

Kin;purpling ail your verdure o er 

With richer hues than e'er before; 

Then touching quick your peaks with gold. 

Too glorious, made you to behold. 

I've loved you when the moon's mild beams 
Shed lights and shades on hills and streams. 
Too strange, mysterious, dark and bright, 
For realms designed for human sight; 
In silence then, I've stood amazed, 
And lost to all but you have gazed. 

New Hampshire hills ! Xew Hampshire hills ! 
The sight of you my spirit fills 
With raptures such as minstrels feel, 
When at the shrine of love they kneel, 
And all aglow with poet's tire, 
Strike with delight the living lyre. 

New Hampshire hills ! Xew Hampshire hills ! 
Sweet peace and health your air distills, 
As fresh as when the earth was new, 
And all the world was good and true; 
Emblems, ye are of royal state; 
Majestic hills, bold, grand and great. 

New Hampshire hills ! Xew Hampshire hills ! 
Your presence every passion stills, 
And hushed to peace I long to pass 
Far up your heights of lovliness, 
And stand, the world beneath my feet, 
There eavth and heaven enraptuied meet. 



A writer upon " Men and their Profes- 
sions," in the Granite Monthly for 
October last, assumes to slur lawyers. 
Defence is unnecessary, yet we venture 
a few suggestions in their behalf. Had 
his ungenerous insinuations been couched 
in more respectful language, they might 

have been worthy of more considerate attention to the history of his 
notice. With an air of authority, he wherein he may learn that from 
summarily denounces lawyers in general of the legal profession have, c 
as "Men who are not burdened so heavi- leading statesmen, our most gii 

ly with knowledge as by Cheek.' 
ine the modest writer before l\ 
able and erudite judges, who e 
the august tribunal of the high* 
of our own State, or before the 
Bench of the United States, giv 
to such a sentiment ! We woul 

e seven 
est court 
:..g vent 
i call his 
the ranks 
-jcoe our 
:';ed ora- 



tors, our best writers and finest scholars 
in various branches. The presidents, 
with very few exceptions, have beee 
lawyers, and a large majority of the cab- 
inet officers, senators and congressmen 
were students and practisersof the law, 
and whoever states that these men suc- 
ceeded through "cheek," rather than by 
knowledge and ability, insults the intelli- 
gence of the American people. "Cheek" 
is a low word, and has a low meaning, 
but pluck is an essential element of legal 
and other success. Lawyers as a class, 
are as well educated and as well cultured 
men, as can be found in the community. 
and any well informed, unprejudiced 
teacher, clergyman, doctor, or even 
school-boy, will tell you so. They are 
preferred for public stations, — for mem- 
bers of the Board of Education, for of- 
fices of trust and responsibility in various 
organizations, and for important posi- 
tions in society, church and state. Un- 
doubtedly, there are dishonorable lawyers 
as well as dishonorable barbers and 
butchers, bakers and candlestick-makers, 
but the statistics of criminality show- 
lawyers to be better behaved than jour- 
nalists and doctors, and even the minis- 
ters, who generally conduct themselves 
pretty tolerably well. Undoubtedly, 
there are ignorant and "cheeky" law- 
yers, as well as ignorant and ''cheeky" 
scribblers for the magazines; but the 
writer speaks of them as a class, when 
he writes down the profession " as 
one to be dodged by that man who hopes 
to live a life acceptable to himself and the 

"No rogue e'er felt the halter draw, 
With good opinion of the law." 

lias the writer recently received a 
curt collection letter, or has he been 
righteously whipped in a law-suit? Ah ! 
here may be a clue to his biliousness. 
He says, people should not complain, 
"except, perhaps, when they aspire to 
office of honor, trust or profit, and find an 
attorney and counsellor at law ready to 
fill the bill to their exclusion." We are 
sorry that the writer has met with 
disappointments in his aspirations, but 
he is unreasonable in blaming lawyers i.s 
a class for his personal misfortunes. He 

says, " lawyers are clannish;" but he is 
in error in his statement, for they are al- 
most i,:v,.- ■ iublv arrayed one against an- 
other. He would lead us to believe that 
lawyers are a mean set of people, for even 
amongst his friends and acquaintances 
"are worthy and honorable exceptions" 
We do not happen to -know* what the 
writer's associations are, but do know 
that your average lawyer is a good, wh ale- 
hearted citizen. He is a practical man, 
— he can harness a horse and drive i: : he 
can make a speech., write an article for 
the newspaper, and saw a cord of wood. 
The sun does not go down upon his pas- 
sion, — he will oppose you to-day; outgo 
a-fishing with you to-rnorrow, He inves- 
tigates many subjects ; sees many things ; 
he thinks much, travels much, reads 
much, writes much, talks much: he is a 
broad and deep student of human nature, 
the grandest of studies; he can give and 
take hard blows. He has a deep respect 
for members of his own and other pro- 
fessions and trades, and has warm friend- 
ships and many acquaintances amongst 
them. He is a genial companion, a good 
family man. well-informed and handy as 
a friend. He is public-spirited; does not 
sit in judgment on other men and their 
vocation and cases, but does his bes: for 
his clients. He has an immense sense of 
the ridiculous ; but a deep reverence for 
things holy, and is charged with a fund of 
interesting anecdote. His is a grand and 
deep science. It may not be grander and 
deeper than theology or medicine, but a 
life-time of application to it would fall 
far short of its accomplishment. To be 
a good lawyer, he must love his work. 
Law is that order which pervades and 
constrains all existence. and in these days 
of civilization, enlightenment, invention, 
improvement, progress,— in these days 
of a million competitions and complica- 
tions of trades, governments, laws, trans- 
actions, no one can afford to sneer at an 
upright lawyer. Wherever are law and 
order and peace, there are lawyers. 
Where all is chaos and confusion, there 
is no mission or opportuity for lawyers. 
The writer referred to lias gone on to 
discuss the members of other professions 
and has drawn some very invidious dis- 



criminations. The truth is that we are 
all dependent one upon another; each is 
Vivmorrant in his place, u\ -i *»aeb puts his 
own profession, his own trade, craft or 
calling at the head, and such pride is 
laudable, for every man's vo< atiou, be it 
legitimate, should be the highest in his 
.own estimation. The writer is no very 
keen observer, else he would have learn- 
ed that there are no totally depraved 
callings. Human nature runs about the 
same throughout all kinds of business. 
There are good and bad rften in every de- 
cent department of life, and— thank God ! 
— the good are in the majority, and our 
friend ought to know it. It may seem 
otherwise at times; the day is not always 
bright, but the sunshine is much more 
plentiful than the thunder clouds; men 
may lie, but truth is far more frequent 
than falsehood. We have not the time, 
the inclination or the space to point 
out all the erroneous impressions con- 
veyed in the writer's article, but it 
seems a duty to call attention to one 
more, at least, now that we have given 
the matter any attention. 

He classes all politicians with blear- 
eyed, drunken loafers and culprits, who 
escape prison, where they rightfully be- 
long, who give the police the greatest 
uneasiness, — " the despised of the com- 
munity, the forsaken of God, the hated 
and ignored of virtuous women." But 
what does he mean? A saintly teacher 
of ours, now beyond the river of time, 
taught us that Political Ethics, the Sci- 
ence of Government, was one of the 
grandest, broadest and deepest studies, 
and in later days, with the utmost defer- 
ence, we have revered the names of the 
noble statesmen, as we have been wont 
to call the politicians who have compre- 
hended the mighty fabric of our organic 
laws, and have marshalled the people 
into a peaceful union, under a republican 
Government and a Glorious Old Flag! 
Alas! these men were professional poli- 

ticians, and, the gentleman declares, 
should be given the "cu*; direct." Yet 
Washington and Webster, Lincoln and 
Sumner, and hundreds and thousands o{ 
other great men were politicians. What 
would we he without politicians? Are 
there auy politicians in Kamtschatka or 
Fegee Islands? Every great leader is a 
politician. Every loyal, intelligent citi- 
zen and voter takes an interest in poli- 
tics, and is in some measure a politician. 
Our presidents, our senators, our con- 
gressmen, are politicians, and the better 
politicians they are, the better qualiried 
they are to serve their constituency to 
the best advantage. The wide scope of 
learning has divided men into special- 
ties ; the ministers preach to sinners ; the 
doctors visit the sick ; the editors prepare 
their sheets ; the blacksmiths fashion and 
weld iron; but when the affairs of State 
and general government get entangled, 
and we are threatened with revolution 
and ruin, we look, for a helmsman, to 
somebody who has made politics a study 
and a business. Are these somebodies, 
u blear-eyed. drunken loafers," or are 
they the first men of the nation, essential 
to our welfare and prosperity? Ah, sir, 
do not denounce all lawyers, because you 
are so unfortunate as to have a tilt with 
a resolute collector; nor all politicians, 
because you happen to meet at the ballot 
box, some petty ward-fugler, who never 
had the slightest conception of the sci- 
ence of politics. To good and true poli- 
ticians we must look for purification, for 
harmony, for peace, for prosperity, for 
good government, and when we give the 
profession of politics the ''cut direct." 
down goes our hope of union, of prog- 
ress, of civilization, of Christianity and 
all honorable advancement. Young men. 
if your tastes, inclinations, opportunities 
and circumstances will admit, become 
upright and able politicians, scholars, 
statesmen, leaders in the land. 





Baker's River is located in Grafton 
Count}', mainly in the towns of Ply- 
mouth, Rumney, "Went worth and War- 
ren, and has a history, like all the other 
rivers and mountains in the State, and 
particularly in the northern part of it, 
many of which histories, 
written and read and understood, would 
prove rich in stirring incident and fraught 
with instruction. 

This river is made up of two principal 
branches, known as the North and the 
South branches, and of many smaller 
streams or brooks that flow into them 
and into the main river after those 
branches are united. The North or 
principal branch of the river rises in 
Moosehillock mountain in the town of 
Benton, formerly Coventry. Its source 
is north east of the northerly or highest 
peak of the mountain. There is a cas- 
cade a little way down the slope of the 
mountain, and about north east from the 
Summit House, which is visited by many 
travellers, the waters of which descend 
to a level piece of bog or swampy land 
at the foot ef the mountain, which is 
some half a mile in diameter and out of 
which flows a small stream which is the 
origin of the North branch of Baker's 
River. After descending a mile or two, 
a branch from the west unites with it, 
which comes down in the ravine between 
the two spurs, which extend easterly 
from the two principal peaks of the 
mountain. At Warren Village, there is 
another stream entering it from the west, 
affording valuable water power and mill 
sites, and a half a mile below, near the 
old Clough house is another stream, en- 
tering it from the east, in the bed of 
which, up toward the mountains, were 
discovered the first grains of gold, that 
were found in the neighborhood of War- 

At Wentworth Village, a branch, some- 
times called the South Western branch, 
but more commonly Pond Brook, which 
is the outlet of Baker's Pond, so called, 
in Orford, unites with Baker's River 
from the west. This stream was so 
swollen by the great freshet in xVugust, 
1S56, that it swept away mills, shops." 
dwelling houses, bams and out-buildings, 
and utterly destroyed all of Wentworth 
Village that was located upon the street 
that extended up by the side of this 
stream towards Orford, carrying away 
all the foundations even, and the soil 
upon which they stood down to the solid 
ledge, which remains to this day in near- 
ly the same condition. This river has a 
general direction nearly south dowxi 
through Warren and perhaps half 
through Wentworth, then it turns south 
easterly and then easterly, passing out 
of Wentworth through Rumney and Ply- 
mouth, and empties into the Peruiege- 
wassett, just north of Plymouth Village. 
Just before it passes from Wentworth 
into Rumney, the stream known as toe 
South Branch flows into it from the 
south west. This branch is said to have 
its rise in the town of Orange, takes a 
circuitous route through the easterly 
and north easterly parts of Dorchester, 
thence through the south easterly part 
of Wentworth to its union with the 
North Branch, which is known as Baker's 
River. Just below Rumney meeting- 
house, another branch called Stinson's 
Brook, which is the outlet to Stiuson's 
Pond, so called, unites with Baker's 
River from the north. The whole length 
of the river from its source in Moosehil- 
lock to its mouth is something over thirty 
miles. The length of the South Branch 
is something less than that of the North 
Branch, though not very materially less, 
on account of its very circuitous course. 



The Indian name of Baker's River was 
" Asquamchumauke," which means "the 
place of the aicrtuitain \Y;va'rs." '■. 'bis 
name was given to it by the natives, be- 
cause of the place where it rises, and 
also perhaps, because all the streams 
that flow into it, have their source in the 
mountains that lie on either side as it de- 
scends to the Pernigewassett. 

Moosehillock. the name of the moun- 
tain on which Baker's River rises as it 
was formerly spelled and pronounced, 
would seem at first to be a compound 
English word, made up of moose (an an- 
imal) and hillock, meaning a little hill. 
But if this were the origin of the name, 
then it must have been most inappropri- 
ately applied. There is li: tie reason iu 
calling this noble mountain, which is 
4S00 feet high, and the largest and high- 
est in all the northern part of New 
Hampshire or Vermont west of the 
White Mountains, a hillock, or little hill. 
If the -word moose had any connection 
with the origin of this name, it surely 
should have been Moose Mountain instead 
of Moose Hillock. To have called it 
Moose HQ1 would have been entirely out 
of place, but Moose Hillock is still worse. 
But we understand that the name of this 
mountain is derived from the Indian 
words Mo-ose, meaning Bald, and auke, 
meaning place, the letter I being thrown 
in for the sake of euphony, making Moose 
lauke, the " Bald place 7 ' or the "Bald 
Mountain." a much more appropriate 
and significant appellation than to apply 
the word hillock to a mountain of that 
size and consequence. There are points 
from which this mountain may be viewed. 
where the resemblance to a bald head is 
most striking, and where every beholder 
would at once be struck with the appro- 
priateness of the Indian appellative. 
The name has now come to be spelled in 
accordance with this theory. 

The original dwellers on Baker's River 
were a tribe of American Indians known 
as the Coos auks or Coosucks, as they 
were more frequently called. This is 
also au Indian name, made up of two 
words, Coos, meaning a pine tree and 
auke, meaning place, "the place of the 

pine tree," and the Coosauks were the 

dwellers in the place of the pine. The 
word auke in their language, meaning 
the same as p!a«# m B^iis:;, was ap- 
plied to everything that had locality, 
like our word place. Rivers, mountains, 
countries, lakes were all places. Coos 
was the name given by the whites origi- 
nally to all that portion of Xew Hamp- 
shire, which was located north of Con- 
cord on the Merrimack River, and of 
Charlestown, formerly known as Charles- 
town. Xo 4, on the Connecticut river; 
these being for a considerable period of 
time, the most northerly towns that were 
settled in the State by whites. All north 
of this was called the Coos Country or the 
country of the pine tree, from the large 
quantities of pine that grew originally, 
in the valleys of the Merrimack and Con- 
necticut rivers and their tributaries. 

Portions of the counties of Sullivan, 
and Merrimack and all of Grafton, have 
been made of what was once the Coos 
Country, and afier taking all these, we 
have remaining the present country of 
Coos, still as large in extent of territory 
as any other in the State. The Coosauks 
thus named from the country they in- 
habited, wandered over the valley of the 
Connecticut to the country of the St. 
Francis tribe in Canada on the north, 
to the Green Mountains on the west, 
and to the White Mountain range and to 
Squam Lake on the east, including the 
valleys of the Pemiegewassett and Ba- 
ker's River. The Squam Indians occu- 
pied the region east of Squam Lake and 
so north on the east side of the White 
Mountains and extended to the territory 
of the Penobscots in Maine. 

On ^he south were the Penacooks, the 
largest, most warlike and most powerful 
tribe in the State, who used the territory 
now occupied by Concord, then called 
Penacook, for their hunting and fishing 
grounds and also for agricultural purpo- 
ses, to raise their corn and beans. The 
Coosauks and also the Squam Indians 
were subject to the Penacooks ; received 
their laws, if laws they might be called, 
from them, and paid them tribute in furs 
and beads and ornaments, which in fact, 
constituted not only the currency, but 
all the personal property of the Indian, 



except his canoe and his hunting, fish- 
100" and cooking apparatus, all of which 
were of the roughest and most simple 

Up to the year 1700 and later, these 
hardy Coosauks traversed freely the 
places where thriving villages now stand 
and the intervales along the banks of 
their own Asquamchumauke. This riv- 
er from its mouth to just below YVent- 
worth Village was a great resort for the 
Indians. As they passed back and forth 
between the Pemigewassett and the 
Connecticut, on hunting and fishing ex- 
cursions, or for the purpose of traffic 
with the Squams or Penacooks, on the 
one side, or with the Canada tribes on 
the other, they followed up this river to 
just below Wentworth Village, some- 
times in their canoes and sometimes by 
land. Here they left the river and fol- 
lowed up the valley of Pond Brook to 
the ponds in Orford and Piermont. over 
what was termed a carrying ground or 
place, and from thence one route led di- 
rectly across to the Connecticut River in 
Piermont and another turned north from 
the upper pond and extended up to the 
place where long afterwards and now 
long ago, was Tarleton's Tavern, thence 
to the valley of the Oliverian Brook, so 
called, and thence to their encampments 
ou the "Ox Bow." A line of spotted 
trees indicated these routes, known as 
carrying grounds. 

Some of the early exploring parties of 
the whites followed this route from Ply- 
mouth to Wentworth, thence up Pond 
brook to the upper pond in Piermont and 
then turning northward sought the val- 
ley of the Oliverian Brook or Kiver. and 
thence west to Haverhill. Other parties 
followed Baker's River up as far as War- 
ren Village and thence by one route or 
another crossed over to the Haverhill 
Valley. Above the present site of Went- 
worth Village, the Indians did not use 
the river much as a thoroughfare, but 
they pitched their tents along upon its 
borders, dwelling there in summer, and 
following their usual avocations of hunt- 
ing and fishing. The location of some of 
these camping grounds have been dis- 
covered, by the arrows and hatchets of 

stone, which have been found in these 

The Indians had undoubtedly^explored 
this river to its source, and were well ac- 
quainted with its origin, as the name 
they gave it would imply. They had an 
encampment, or a place ot favorite resort 
at the mouth of the river upon the north 
side of it upon the intervale near where 
it unites with the Pemigewassett. Here 
the}* built their wigwams; here they de- 
posited their furs and game; here they 
had their sports: here they sang their 
songs; danced their war dances, and 
smoked the pipe of peace. Here. Indian 
graves and bones have been found, also 
stone mortars, pestles, hatchets, arrows 
and other Indian utensils. 

As they passed up and down the river 
by land, they soon found and marked 
paths from point to poiut, cutting, off the 
bends in the river and thus shortening 
the distance and making the route more 
direct, and heuce many of the first roads 
laid out by the whites in the several 
towns upon the river were laid out and 
built upon these lines of spotted trees, 
which originally marked the wandering 
Indians path from hill to hill, and along 
the valleys. 

But a question naturally arises here, 
why was this river, the Indian u As- 
quamchumauke." called in English, -'Ba- 
ker's River?" We find that it was so 
called, when the first settlers came on; 
it is so called in the journal of Capt. 
Powers in 1754, of whose travels we 
shall hereafter speak. 

It seems that early in the year 1709, 
one Thomas Baker was taken captive 
from Deerrield, Mass., by the Indians 
and carried up Connecticut River to 
Lake Mem ph rem agog and thence to Can- 
ada. The next year he was ransomed 
and returned by the same route to his 
home in Northampton, Mass., thus hav- 
ing gained a knowledge of the route and 
of some of the haunts of the Indians. In 
1712, he raised a company of 31 men. in- 
cluding one friendly Indian, as a guide. 
His object was to ferret out and destroy, 
if possible, the Indians having their en- 
campment somewhere upon the waters 
of the Pemigewassett River. He then 



held the title of Lieutenant, and went di- 
rectly by the old carrying place with 
v.iiieh lie *v»s familiar to the Cooa or 
Cowass intervales in Haverhill and New- 
bury. There he halted and following the 
lead of the Indian guide up the Oliverian 
Brook to the height of land south of and 
in plain sight of Moosilauke and then 
followed a small brook down to the In- 
dian Asquarnchumauke in Warren and 
thence through Wentworth, Eumney and 
Plymouth to the mouth of the river. 

When Baker and his men, who had 
kept on the west and south side of the 
river, came near its mouth, the guide sig- 
nified that it was now time for every 
man to be on the lookout, and so every 
one moved with the utmost circumspec- 
tion, and when near thejunction of thisriv- 
er with the Pemigewassett, they discov- 
ered the Indians on the north bank of 
the Asquamchumauke, sporting among 
their wigwams in great numbers, secure 
as they supposed from the muskets and 
the gaze of all '•pale-faces." This was 
in fact, their principal village or settle- 
ment, where they deposited their booty 
and stored their furs. 

Baker and his men choss their posi- 
tions and opened a tremendous fire upon 
the Indians, which was as sudden to 
them as an earthquake. Many of the 
sons of the forest fell in death in the 
midst of their sports; but the living dis- 
appeared in an instant and ran to call in 
their hunters. Baker and his men lost 
no time in crossing the river in 
search of booty. They found a rich 
store of furs, deposited in holes, dug in 
the bank of the river horizontally— in the 
same manner that bank swallows dig 
their holes. 

Having destroyed their wigwams and 
captured their furs. Baker ordered a re- 
treat, fearing that they would soon re- 
turn in too large numbers to be resisted 
by his single company. And it seems 
that the Indians were fully up to his ex- 
pectations or apprehensions, for not- 
withstanding, Baker retreated with all 
expedition, the Indians collected and 
were up with them, when they had 
reached a poplar plain in Bridgewater; 
a little south of where Walter Webster 

formerly kept tavern, here a severe skir- 
mish ensued, but the Indians were re- 
palseci unci many of thom killed- -several 
skulls have been since found on this 
plain by the early settlers, some of 
which had been perforated by bullets, 
which were supposed to have belonged 
to those who fell in this engagement. 

The leader of the Indians in these en- 
gagements was Walternumus, a distin- 
guished sachem and warrior, and in one 
of these engagements and possibly in 
this one at Bridgewater, he was slain. 
It is said that he and Baker fired at each 
other the same instant; the ball of the 
Indian grazing Baker's left eyebrow, while 
his passing through the .Indian's heart, 
he leaped in the air and fell dead. The 
Indian warrior was royally attired, and 
Baker hastily seizing his blanket, wlfich 
was richly ornamented with silver, his 
powder horn and bother ornaments, has- 
tened oh with his men. 

But notwithstanding the Indians had 
been repulsed, the friendly Indian ad- 
vised Baker and his men to use all pos- 
sible diligence in their retreat, for he as- 
sured them that the number of the Indi- 
ans would increase every hour and that 
they would surely return to the attack. 
Accordingly Baker pushed on the retreat 
with all possible dispatch, and did not 
wait for any refreshment after the bat- 
tle. But when they had reached Xew 
Chester now Bill, having crossed a stream 
his men were exhausted, through absti- 
nence, forced marches and hard fighting 
and they concluded to stop and refresh 
themselves at whatever risk, concluding 
that they might as well perish by the 
tomahawk as by famine. 

But here again was a call for Indian 
strategem. The friendly Indian told 
every man to build as many fires as he 
could in a given time; as the pursuing 
Indians would judge of their numbers by 
the number of their fires. He told them 
also that each man should make him four 
or five forks of crotched sticks, and use 
them all in roasting a single piece of 
pork, then leave an equal number of 
forks round each fire, and the Indians 
would infer, if they came up, that there 
were as many of the t Ei:glish as there 



were forks and this might turn them 

The Indian's counsel was followed to 
the letter, and the company moved on 
with fresh speed. But before they were 
out of hearing and while the fires they 
had left were still burning, the pursuing 
Indians with additional reinforcements, 
came up and counting the fires ^and the 
forks, the warriors whooped a retreat, 
for they were alarmed at the numbers of 
the English. Baker and his men were 
no longer?annoyed by these troublesome 
attendents but were allowed peacefully 
to return to their homes, owing their 
preservation, no doubt, to the counsel of 
the friendly Indian who acted as their 
guide. Baker's River is supposed to have 
been so named to perpetuate the remem- 
brance of this brilliant affair of Lieut. 
Baker at its mouth. 

This is the first party of whites that 
we have any authentic account of having 
passed along the course of this winding 
river, which was from that time forth to 
take the name of their illustrious leader. 
The date of this expedition of Baker is 
stated by YVhiton in his history of Xew 
Hampshire to have been 1724. but this is 
evidently an error, as the journal of the 
Massachusetts Legislature shows that 
Lieutenant Thomas Baker, as commander 
of a company in a late expedition to 
Coos and over to Merrimack Paver and 
so to Dunstable, brought in Ids claim, 
for Indian scalps, which was allowed 
and paid, in May, 1712 and an additional 
allowance made for the same. June 11, 
1712, which would seem to fix the time 
beyond question. In addition to other 
pay, Baker was promoted to the rank of 
Captain, by which title he is generally 

The next time that Baker's River wa3 
explored above Plymouth by the whites, 
that I find any account of, was just forty 
years after Baker's expedition, viz: in 
the spring of 1752. That spring. John 
Stark, afterwards General Stark of Xew 
Hampshire, the hero of Bunker Hill and 
Bennington, in company with his brother, 
William Stark, Amos Eustman. then of 
Rumford (now Concord), but afterwards 
of Hollis, X. H.. and David Stinson of 

Londonderry were upon a hunting expe- 
dition upon the Pemigewassett and so 
passed up Bakers i'iwr mm huinney. 
Here just below Rumney meeting house 
near the mouth of the brook that flows 
in to Baker's River from the north, this 
party was surprised by a party of ten 
Indians under the command of Francis 
Titigaw. who is supposed to have be- 
longed to the St. Francis tribe in Canada. 
John Stark and Eastman were taken pris- 
oners ; Stinson and Wra. Stark attempt- 
ing to escape were fired upon by the In- 
dians and Stinson was shot, killed, 
scalped and stripped of his wearing ap- 
parel. Wm. Stark escaped. This event 
and the death of Stinson, as connected 
with it. will long be perpetuated by the 
mountain, pond and brook in Rumney, 
which bear his name and at the union of 
which brook with Baker's River, he was 
slain. This event is said to have taken 
place April 28, 1752. 

From the mouth of Stinson's Brook, 
John Stark and Eastman were led as cap- 
tives, up Baker's River through Went- 
worth. and so through the Jlvadozcs at 
Haverhill, (then so much talked of in 
Massachusetts and Xew Hampshire) to 
the headquarters of the St. Francis tribe 
in Canada. These men being ransomed, 
returned from their captivity in the au- 
tumn of the same year, by the way of 
Lake Champlain and Charlestown. Xo. 4. 

At that time, the Indians were masters. 
— the whites were captives. Then the 
forests were unbroken and silence and 
solitude reigned, where now the peaceful 
farm house is seen, dotting the cleared 
and cultivated soil, and where the din of 
business and machine^ is now constant- 
ly heard. How little could the gallant 
Stark, then foresee or conjecture the 
changes that a hundred years and raore 
would produce in the face of the country ; 
the relative position and power of the 
races ; of the march of civilization and of 
improvement in the arts of peace and of 
war. The idea of railroads, cars and tel- 
egraphic lines was not then conceived. 

And who can predict that the changes 
produced in the next century, shall be 
less astonishing than those that have oc- 
curred since John Stark first wandered a 
captive, along the banks of the red man's 



Asquatnchumauke and pursued his wind- 
ing and sorrowful way up through the 
rii'iey*. now ?o pfleftsaat and peaceful, 
and by the site of the present villages, 
now so busy, bustling and active. 

The second exploring party on this 
river was a company sent out by the 
General Court of Xew Hampshire, in the 
spring of 1753. to explore the " Coos 
Country", with directions to pursue the 
track of the Indians as they came from 
the great valley to Baker's River and the 
Pemigewassett and returned again with 
their prisoners. This company was led 
by Col. Lovewell, Major Tolford and 
Capt. Page, with John Stark for their 
guide. They left Concord March 10, 
1753. and in fifteen days reached the Con- 
necticut River at Piermont. They spent 
but one night in the valley and returned 
by way of Baker's River. This expedi- 
tion having proved a failure, the Govern- 
ment sent another company under Capt. 
Peter Powers of Hollis. X. II.. Lieut. 
James Stevens and Ensign Ephraim Hall, 
both of Townsend. Mass.. to effect if pos- 
sible, what had hitherto been attempted 
in vain. 

This company started from Concord, 
then Rumford, June 15. 1754. They 
passed up the Pemigewassett and Ba- 
ker's River to Pond Brook ; thence up to 
Baker's Pond; thence northerly. through 
the east of Piermont and Haverhill, till 
they struck the Oliverian Brook ; thence 
west to Connecticut River and thence up 
as far as Lancaster and then returned by 
the same course. 

AVe have been furnished with the jour- 
nal of Capt. Powers on this excursion by 
the Rev. Grant Powers, formerly of Ha- 
verhill, who was a descendant of the 
Captain. We will give a few extracts re- 
lating to their journey up Baker's River, 
introducing such comments as seem ap- 
propriate, and will commence with the 
entry in the journal for Thursday, June 
20, 1754, which is as follows: k * We 
steered our cour>eone turn with another, 
which were great turns, west, north 
west, about two miles and a half to the 
crotch or parting of the Pemigewassett 
River at Baker's River mouth; thence 
from the mouth of Baker's River up said 

river north we?: by west, six miles. 
This river is extraordinary crooked and 
has gc : / interv.'/. ■- ; tfo«**fe%ut ■ ; river 
about two miles north-west and there 
we shot a moose, the sun about half an 
hour high and then encamped./' 

(This was about S miles from the 
mouth of the river and must Live been 
near where Runiney village now stands, 
and near where S:inson had been shot, 
something over two years before/ ••Fri- 
day. June 21, we steered up the said Ba- 
ker's River with oar canoes a/out five 
miles as the river r^n. which wis extra- 
ordinary crooked. In the after-part of 
this day there wis a great s":.:wer of 
haile ?;id raine, w/ic-h prevents iourpro- 
ceeding any farther, and here we camped 
and here left our canoes, for the waterin 
the river was so shoal that we o:uld not 
go with them any farther. /This was 
probably somewhere in the vicinity of 
Smart's Mills in Wentworth.). 

"Saturday, June 22. This morning 
was dark and cloudy weather: bat after 
ten of the clock, i: cleared off hot, and 
we marched up the river near the Indian 
carrying place from Baker's River to Con- 
necticut River and then camped and 
could not go any further, by reason of a 
great shower of raiue. which held almost 
all this afternoon. 

•• Sunday. June 23. This morning dark 
and cloudy weather and we marched up 
the river about on~ mile and canue to the 
Indian carrying place, and by reason of 
the dark weather, we were obliged to fol- 
low the marked way. that was marked by 
Major Lovewell and Captain Tolford and 
others. from Baker's River to Connecticut 
River, and this -.lay's march was but 
about six miles, and we camped /-tween 
the two fir^t Baker's Ponds, and it came 
on a great storm of rain, which prevented 
our marching any farther, and on this 
day's march we saw a considerable quan- 
tity of white pine limber and found it 
was something large, lit for thirty inch 
masts as we judged- But before this 
day's march we saw no white plnetimber 
that was very large on this Baker's River, 
but a great quantity of small \\ hitepine, 
fit for boards and small masts. And on 
this river there is a great quan/:" of ex- 


cellent material, from the beginning of 
It, to the place whore we left this river, 
aud it layeth of a pretty equal proportion 
from one end to the other, and back of 
this there is a considerable quantity of 
large mountains." 

"Monday, June 24. This morning it 
rained hard and all the night past and it 
held raining all this clay, and we kept our 
camp, and here we staid the night ensu- 
ing and it rained almost all night." 

u Tuesday, June 23. This morning 
fair weather and we swung our packs, 
the sun about half an hour high, and we 
marched along the carrying place or 
road, marked about two miles and then 
steered our course north, twelve degrees 
west, about twelve miles and came to 
that part of the Coos intervale, that is 
called Moose Meadows aud then steered 
our course up the river by the side of the 
intervale about north-east and came to a 
large stream that came into the inter- 
vale, which is here about a mile wide. 
This stream came out of the east and we 
camped here this night/' 

This last mentioned stream was the 01- 
iverian and the next day's journal gives 
an account of their following this stream 
to the Connecticut River to the great in- 
tervale there, now known as the Ox Bow. 
This party proceeded on up as far as Lan- 
caster and some of the party took an ex- 
cursion as far north as the present town 
of Northumberland, while the rest of ■ 
the party as the journal says, tarried 
to mend their shoes and to make prepa- 
rations to return homeward. We have an 
account of their journey back as far as 
Haverhill Corner or thereabouts. and then 
the journal ceases and we have no ac- 
count of their progress or encampments. 
It would seem that they camped on the 
night of Saturday, June 22. 1754, near 
where Col. Joseph Savage of Wentworth 
now lives. As the record shows that 
their encampment was about a mile be- 
low the Indian carrying place, which 
started at the fording place a little below 
Wentworth Village, and that they passed 
Sunday, June 23, mostly in the town of 
Wentworth, in pursuing their journey up 
to near the place where the village now 
stands, then after lording the river in 



passing up Pond Brook ;o their enc2 _:p- 
mehfc between the two Baker's Poads. 
This encampment wa^ oi course ehafi 
night in the edge of Orford, probably 
near the former dwelling and tavern of 
Mr. Nathan Davis. 

After this party of exploration, we have 
occasional accounts of parties passing 
up Biker's River. It seems that one 
Capt. Hazen in 17G2. with a party of aaen 
among whom was Col. Joshua Howard, 
settled in the present town of Haver:.:!!, 
N. II., and went about erecting a saw 
mill and grist mill there, the first ttuu had 
been undertaken iu the Coos Country, 
north of Charlestown ac 3 Concord. Col. 
Howard used to relate that he and two 
others of the Haverhill party were the 
first among the settlers that came from 
Salisbury in the straight course to Ha- 
verhill. They came on in April. 17G2. 
Jesse Harriman and Simeon Ste-ens, 
were Col. Howard's companions and they 
employed an old hunc-rr at, Concord to 
pilot them through. They came up west 
of New-found Pond iu Hebrou, and so up 
to Rumney or West Plymouth, the:: ce up 
Baker's River through Wentworth i:da 
part of Warren, to where the brook 
comes down from the summit; and 
unites with Baker's River. They :hen 
followed that brook up to the, 
aud thence followed the Oliverian to Ha- 
verhill. They performed the jocrney 
from Concord to Haverhill in tour iiays, 
which was for that time considerfh. far 
ahead of the present rail road speei. 

We also learn that the crauk t:r the 
first saw mill at Newbary. was drawn on 
a hand sled from Concord to HaT^rhill 
on the ice and snow, in the winter proba- 
bly of 17G2 and '03. The party ch&s went 
after it and drew it up were Judge Wood- 
ward and John Page and some three or 
four others. They m j de their slii and 
took their provisions and started. They 
accomplished the down journey with 
ease, but on the return, their load proved 
rather heavy ; the snow was very deep; 
the weather very severe and the whole 
party came near perishing with cold, fa- 
tigue and hunger. They came by New 
Found Pond to Baker's River, thence up 
the Indian carrying place throu_p t Orford 



and Biermont to Haverhill Corner, but 
at last they arrived in safety, at their 
rude homes &acl happy firee«Jes=. 

The first settlements of the^towns on 
Baker's River by the descendants of the 
English, were as follows: Plymouth 
was granted July 15, 1763, to Joseph 
Blanchard, Esq. and others. The first 
settlement was made in August, 1764 by 
Zachariah Parker and James Hobart, 
who before the next winter were joined 
by Jotham Cummings, Josiah Brown, 
Stephen Webster, Ephraim Weston, Da- 
vid Webster and James Blodgett, all of 
whom except Weston were from Hollis. 

Rumney was first granted to Samuel 
Olmstead, afterwards on the 13th of 
March, 1767, to Daniel Braiuard and oth- 
ers. The first settlement was made in 
October, 1705, by Capt. Jotham Cum- 
mings. who was joined in 1766 by Moses 
Smart, Daniel Braiuard, James Heath 
and others. Wentworth was granted 
November 1, 1766. to John Page, Esq., 
and others. It received its name from 
Gov. Benning Wentworth. The first 
settlements were said to be made in 1765, 
probably before the date of the charter. 
by a Mr. Davis, probably Abel Davis, 
who I find was an inhabitant of the town 
at the earliest date I can lind on the rec- 
ords of the proprietors. Warren was 
granted July 14, 1763, being prior to the 
Wentworth charter, but this charter ran 
out and was afterwards extended. The 
first settlement in Warren was in the year 
1767. The first settler was a Mr. Joseph 

For many years after the first settle- 
ments in these towns, many of their arti- 
cles of subsistence, flour, potatoes and 
seed for the propagation of vegetables, 
were transported thither from Concord 
and the towns in that region upon pack 
horses, hand sleds and in knapsacks. 
There were no roads or even cart paths 
for a time. 

The first time an ox team ever came 
through from Haverhill to Plymouth 
down Baker's River, it was effected by a 
company of men, who went out express- 
ly for the purpose, with Jonathan McCon- 
nel of Haverhill as the leader. It was an 
expedition that excited much interest 

with the inhabitants at home, and th<s 
progress of the adventurers was inquired 
for from day io day aiard when they were 
returning and approached Haverhill Cor- 
ner, the men went out to meet them and 
congratulated them upon their safe re- 

Thus we see some of the hardships and 
privations that the first settlers in the 
neighborhood of Baker's River were sub- 
jected to. After the early settlers had 
got the wilderness so far subdued as to 
raise their own bread stuff, they were 
compelled to go from this quarter to Con- 
cord and Salisbury to mill, before they 
could get their flour and that when there 
was no road or hardly a path through the 

But soon the numbers of the settlers 
increased. Mills were erected, roads 
were constructed ; the forests were felled, 
farms were cleared and improved; more 
capacious and convenient dwellings were 
built; schools were established; churches 
erected and so civilization and the arts 
have advanced, and knowledge has in- 
creased. The people have become better 
and better educated, more and more in- 
telligent, until we find at this time, after 
a lapse of a century and a half and more 
from the time when the Indian's k> As- 
quamchumauke" was first explored by 
the white man. that there is as enlight- 
ened, as intelligent, as enterprising, as 
active and as prosperous a people, scat- 
tered along on the banks of Baker's Riv- 
er, as any other tract of territory in our 
State or country can boast. 

During all these changes Baker's River 
has continued to flow with the same 
ceaseless, constant, quiet current, re- 
gaiding not whether her banks are peo- 
pled by the red or white men ; whether 
encampments of Indians' huts and wig- 
wams skirt her borders; or, whetherthe 
more stately habitations of the independ- 
ent husbandman, rise upon her banks; 
or, thickly settled villages are built on 
either side. It matters not to her whether 
she be called Asquamchumauke or Ba- 
ker's River. Under whatever name, she 
still remains what the rude native Indian 
called her, "The place of the mountain 
waters." But among all the changes 



that this river has witnessed upon her 
l->nler«. perhaps none, are greater than 
the changes produced within a century 
in the facilities and means afforded for 
transportation and for travel. 

Then, the Indian with his birch cauoe 
paddled up its waters, or carried his game 
and furs on foot upon its banks. And in 
this way the whites were obliged for a 
long time to travel and transported their 
necessaries. Then rough paths were 
made, so that pack horses and men with 
hand sleds passed up and down the river 
laden with such necessaries as the early 
settlers were able to^procure; then the 
roads were widenedand the logs removed 
and the stumps cut down so low. that an 
ox team with a cart could pass ; then the 
more opulent could travel in their gig 
wagons; and at length, after great im- 
provements in the roads, and carriages, a 
new idea was started, which was the idea 
of a turnpike, a stage coach, and a four or 
a six horse team. 

And for a time there was as much ex- 
citement in regard to turnpikes and 
stages as there has since been in relation 
to railroads. For many j r ears did the old 
stage coach groan under its load of pas- 
sengers, as it passed up and down daily 
upon the banks of Baker's River. until at 
length, the amount of business seemed to 
exceed the facilities for transportation. 
Then, new plans are laid ; projects more 
vast and important are discussed, and for 
a time, the great idea of a rail road en- 
grossed the public mind, in the valley of 
our favorite river. When at length, she 
saw upon her banks, a road graded to a 
level; hills cut through ; valleys filled up ; 
and upon this level grade those iron 
bands were placed, which are fast encir- 
cling the earth, and binding states and 
nations together by ties of interest as 
strong as human love of gain. 

And soon the iron horse was heard and 
seen; the cars sped their way upon the 
iron track ; and the age of steam had 

come and was duly inaugurated on Ba- 
ker's River. And following in the train 
of these improvements came the tele- 
graph. Men could not long wait for 
steam to convey their thoughts, but the 
electric fluid is made obedient to the will 
of man and does his bidding and conveys 
his thought with lightning speed; over- 
coming all distance, annihilating space, 
and enabling men, thousands of miles 
distant to converse with each other as it 
face to face. Along the course of Baker's 
River does the magnetic wire convey to 
all the dwellers upon its borders, the 
events transpiring in the distant portions 
of our country. . 

What changes our quiet river shall 
witness in another century, none can 
predict; no eye can see; no thought can 
conceive what changes the next century, 
or even the next fifty years, will produce 
and witness. Shall we in that time be 
enabled to navigate the air? Shall elec- 
tricity and magnetism be still further ap- 
plied so as to not only afford us light and 
heat, but also to furnish us with a motive 
power, so as to do away with the use of 
steam and water power altogether? or 
will some new agent be discovered, or 
some new application of the agencies al- 
ready understood, be made, so as to rev- 
olutionize all our present ideas of speed, 
all our modes of business and all our hab- 
its of thought? But whatever these 
changes in the future may be. Baker's 
River will still move on as it has done in 
all the changes of the past, in its winding 
course; fulfilling silently but constantly, 
every moment as well as every year and 
every century, its great mission of con- 
veying our mountain waters, downward 
and onward, to the bosom of the mighty 
deep, and at the same time, of watering, 
fertilizing, refreshing and beautifying the 
whole region of country through which 
it flows, thus teaching a lesson which all 
would do well to learn and to practice. 


THE DEAD OF 1873. 

THE DEAD OF 1878. 

During the year just past the "grim 
messenger'' has summoned fully the 
usual number of the world's good and 
great — useful and honorable men in the 
various walks of life— from the scenes of 
earthly labor to higher spheres in the 
world beyond. And while princes and 
potentates, statesmen, scholars, heroes, 
poets and divines — men of world-wide 
distinction and honor have been called 
away in other lands and states, Xew 
Hampshire has lost no iuconsiderable 
number of her distinguished citizens, 
representative men in the different pro- 
fessions and callings. 

From the ranks of the legal profession 
in the State, a number of well known 
men have been taken during the year. 
Among them may be mentioned William 
H. Y. Hackett of Portsmouth, long 
prominent in public and official life as 
well as at the bar; William B. Small of 
Newmarket, late member of Congress, 
and George William Burleigh of Somers- 
worth. all men of ability and distinction. 

In the record of names of Xew Hamp- 
shire clergymen, who departed -this life 
during the year, we find those of Rev. 
Nathaniel Bonton of Concord, eminent 
as a historian as well as a leading divine 
of the Congregational denomination ; 
Rev. Hosea Quinby. D. D., of Milton, a, 
prominent Free Will Baptist; Rev. Lem- 
uel Willis of Warner, one of the oldest 
and most efficient members of the Uni- 
versalist clergy in the State, and Rev. 
Michael Lucy of Exeter, a Catholic 
priest of high character and reputation. 

The medical profession has lost a good- 
ly number of its members; the most dis- 
tinguished of whom was Dr. Albert 
Smith of Peterborough, long a member 
of the faculty of the Dartmouth Medical 
School and one of the most learned and 
experienced, physicians in the country. 
Others in the list worthy of note are Drs. 

John Morrison 'of Alton and John McNab 
of Woods ville, the latter dying at the ad- 
vanced age of ninety-live years and re- 
taining his intellectual and physical ac- 
tivity in a wonderal degree almost to the 
day of his death. 

Among our well known educators de- 
ceased in 1S7S. were Lorenzo D. Barrows. 
D. D., President of the X. H. Conference 
Seminary at Tilton, who was also a prom- 
inent clergyman of the Methodist denom- 
ination, and Ephraim Knight for many 
years. Professor of Mathematics at the 
Xew London Institution. The more 
prominent representatives of the press, 
who departed this life during the year 
were the venerable John T. Gibbs of Do- 
ver, who published the Dover Gazette 
nearly forty years, and William H. Gil- 
more of Henniker, formerly of the Man- 
chester Democrat and Journal of Agri- 
culture, and subsequently, for many 
years, agricultural editor of the People 
at Concord. 

Of the railway managers of the State, 
the two ablest, most notable and success- 
ful, whose enterprise, energy and sagac- 
ity had contributed more than that of 
any score of other men to the extension 
of our railway lines and the consequent 
development of our material resources — 
ex-Governor Onslow Stearns of Concord. 
President of the Xorthern and Concord 
roads, and John E. Lyon of the Boston. 
Concord and Montreal, (who although a 
resident of Boston was to all practical 
intents and purposes a Xew Hampshire 
man), both made their exit from earthly 
life during the year. 

Among prominent manufacturers dy- 
ing in 1878 were Alexander II. Tilton 
of Tilton and Xicholas V. Whitehouse of 
Rochester; among the representative 
farmers of the State deceased, may be 
named Col. Ezra J. Glidden of Unity and 
Arthur Clough of Canterbury. 




'Tis Christmas clay. The cloudless morn 
Recalls to earth the Light once born 
Beneath chat glorious, kindly star 
Which led the wise men from afar — 
That Light whose glory ne'er shall cease, 
The fount of life, and love, and peace. 

New England hills are cloaked with snow, 
And snow-white are the vales below, 
Save where, 'mid leafless trees, is seen, 
The foliage of the evergreen. 
The widespread forests rule the land, 
Though scarred by man's relentless hand. 

Within a quiet valley, where 
The colonists, with toil and care. 
Have built their dwellings, without fear 
The people come from far and near 
To hear what Elder Gray would say 
Unto his Hock this Christmas day. 
The new-built church is small and plain ; 
What matters that, if souls but gain 
The blessing of the Lord, which waits 
Within the humblest temple's gates? 

The devastating tide of war 

Rolls on, as 'gainst imperious might 

The men oppressed light for the right. 

Brave men have left this quiet spot, 

And in the struggle cast their lot 

For indpcndence. leaving all 

The joys of home at Freedom's call. • 

Brave women bade their loved ones go, 

And, anxious, wait their weal or woe. 

The little church is now well filled; 

The buzz of whispering voices stilled. 

The hymn is sung, the prayer is said, 

A Scripture lesson has been read 

Which warns the people of their sins; 

Then thus the Elder's text begins: 

" Peace on the earth, good-will to men! " 

He told the story old. again, 

Of Bethlehem's glory, of the Child, 

All holy, harmless, undefiled; 


The Son of Man, who, separate 
From mankind's sins, to high estate 
Had lifted thirst} who humbly ^cue 
Their hearts to Him — who came to save 
From sin and woe. whose love divine 
Would last when suns no more should shine. 

But sin still lived, and still gave "birth 

To woes that long would trouble earth. 

" E'en now, within your very doors. 

Fell war its desolation pours 

Upon your households, nor departs 

Till it has stricken many hearts, 

Laid many a loved one 'neath the sod. 

Whence comes our help except from God? 

It seems in vain to seek redress 

From man for wrongs which selfishness, 

Oppression, tyranny and pride 

Hath righteous deemed, and justified. 

Nor wrongs shall cease, nor woes be stayed 

Till God the righteous cause shall aid. 

We all are sinful, and we need 

The spirit of our Lord in deed 

And truth ; so let ns humbly pray 

That soon may come that blessed day 

When tyranny and strife shall cease, 

And foenien say, l Good-will and peace?' 

Surely in this our hearts will share; 

Will Deacon Adams lead in prayer?" 

Thus closed the Elder's sermon. Near 
The preacher, with attentive ear, 
The Deacon listened. He had dared 
War's dangers, and but ill had fared, 
When Braddock, at a heavy cost, 
Indulged his pride, his arm)' lost; 
For, maimed in body, from the field 
By comrades borne — who slowly yield — 
This soldier brave can join no more 
The ranks in which he fought before, 
But, crippled, he is patriot still, 
And to his country nobly will, 
Through sacrifice, in word and deed, 
Prove true in this her hour of need. 
Three sons he to the war has sent, 
And two have fallen; he is content, 
Since they fought well, and bravely gave 
Their lives their country's life to save. 

But yesternight had brought the news 
. That Washington must surely lose 
His army; 'twas in full retreat, 
His men with shoeless, bleeding feet, 
4 Half-clothed, and lacking arms and food, 

By twice their number fast pursued. 


All night before the Deacon's eyes 

The wo vy patriot arjny files. 

He seeras to hear the panting breath 

Of those to whom repose is death 

Or capture; those on whom depends 

His country's welfare; son and friends 

Are struggling there for right, not wrong; 

They ask but justice. " Lord, how long 

Wilt Thou withhold Thy mighty arm? 

"Wilt Thou not save the weak from harm?" 

These anxious, troubled thoughts will find 

A place within the Deacon's mind 

As he attends to the discourse 

Of Elder Gray; and still will force 

Itself upon him, that worn band 

Of patriots: while with upraised hand 

Seems Freedom standing at their side, 

A suppliant. What will betide 

Ere God the righteous cause shall seal, % 

And peace the wounded land shall heal? 

By these and kindred thoughts possessed, 

He hears good Elder Gray's request. 

The Deacon paused, then slowly knelt 
And prayed. The trouble which he felt 
Found utterance, and sore he plead 
That He who oppressed Israel led 
From bondage would this people free, 
And bless their land with liberty; 
Make, right prevail, e'en though its price 
In pain, and woe, and sacrifice. 
Were great. And less for peace he prayed 
Than justice, and that God would aid 
The patriots in this their hour 
Of doubt, distress and waning power. 

Like Moses, when he humbly dared 
To pray that Israel might be spared— 
Although the judgment of their God 
Had risen with its avenging rod 
To smite them— so this patriot stood 
Between his Lord and nation; would 
Not let the wrestling angel go 
Until he would his grace bestow. 

The congregation sat in awe, . 
With faces pale or tearful, for 
The presence of the Lord seemed there 
In answer to the fervent prayer. 
And not one heart but many thrilled, 
As tremulous with feeling, filled 
Anon with deep entreaty, then 
With argument, and yet again 


With hope, that earnest voice is heard 
Pleading fulfilment of God's word. 

The Deacon ceased ; and silence fell 

Upon the people, till the spell 

Was broken by the blessing given, 

" Good-will and peace to thee, from Heaven! " 

A week has passed, and from the South 

Comes, flying on from mouth to mouth, 

The news of that successful feat 

At Trenton. Pausing in retreat, 

The patriot leader backward turned. 

And, at their cost, the Hessians learned 

The daring zeal of Washington. 

'Mid drifting ice and tempest, on 

Blest Christmas night, his brave men crossed 

The Delaware, and only lost 

Four comrades in the raid, but took 

A thousand prisoners ; well might look 

The people to this chief to save 

Their country with his soldiers brave. 

Now changed the people's fear to joy, 

Fresh hopes their hearts and hands employ. 

Old troops, their time of service o'er, 

Agree to stay, and try once more; 

While with their service jnst begun, 

From town and country, one by one, 

Come new recruits, with ardor fired, 

By Freedom's victory inspired. 

Unto our quiet, snow-bound vale 
This strangely-moving, wondrous tale 
Has reached at last; and tears and smiles 
Greet news which over many miles 
Had passed, spreading such joy around 
As now within this vale is found. 
And many heartfelt thanks ascend 
To Him who will the right defend, 
And oft one to another saith, 
" Xot vainly shall we ask in faith 
For help and comfort from the Lord; 
The Deacon's prayer had its reward." 





When the first congress assembled 

at Philadelphia, that library which 
then opened its doors to the dele- 
gates, was one of the thirty possessed 
by the colonies, and had upon its shelves 
a tenth of the 45.000 volumes in similar 
collections north and south. A hundred 
years more, and when in the same eiry 
the congress of the world assembled to 
commemorate the success of that nation- 
al venture, the government laid before it 
a twelve hundred page volume to give 
but a brief account of our 3.700 libraries, 
with their 12.000.000 of volumes. The 
hundred years represent the growth 
from such liDraries as was that of Brown 
University, to such as is that of the city 
of Boston. The first described by " 250 
volumes, and they such as our friends 
could best spare;" the latter perhaps 
the best public library which the world 
has ever seen. 

The libraries in their growth have been 
an exponent of general information and 
of public education. We have ceased to 
be sensitive over such subjects as wheth- 
er cultivated people read American 
books, and are considering how part of 
the American people can best get the 
material for reading, and how the rest 
can be made to read. But while there 
has been so large a growth in the num- 
ber and size of libraries, there has not 
been a corresponding advance towards 
uniform methods in their administration. 
Here and there have been devised and 
carried on at great expense, systems 
apparently perfect in their plan and suc- 
cessful in their operation; but towards 
a library science and its acknowledgment 
by the public, comparatively little has 
been done, and most of that little has 
been accomplished within a few years. 
It is a question whether the last ten 

years have not done more than the pre- 
ceding ninety towards the recognition of 
such a science. The responsibility for 
having made no more progress must be 
decided between libraries and the public. 
Or perhaps to state it better, it results 
from the officials and the mode in which 
they have worked. There has been no 
special training for the majority of men 
who have taken charge of collections of 
books, and in many cases there has been 
no attempt to make up the deliciency. or 
to do better than second-class work. 
With that comfortable feeling of capac- 
ity which inclines the average American 
to believe that he can do everything, 
newspaper editing and office-holding in- 
cluded, nine men out of ten who have 
received more than a common school ed- 
ucation, or have a taste for reading, 
think, if the3 r are out of employment, 
that they are fully equal to library ad- 
ministration. Hence a library has come 
to be considered as a kind of panacea for 
those ills which come to superannuated 
and unsuccessful men in all the profes- 
sions. This view is frequently seen in 
practice; in fact one can hardly meet 
with an article on library organization, 
where it is not mentioned. Many an ap- 
plicant for the position of librarian 
speaks of his qualifications much as did 
the Maine man, who upon presenting 
himself at a shipping station, said "he 
was not exactly a green hand, for he had 
tended saw mill.*' 

• Generally speaking, the man who 
draws a book thinks there is but little 
labor required to get it from and return 
it to the case, and he understands nothing 
of the real labor which lies back of this; 
hence he sees nothing very intellectual 
in arrangement and management. With 
such the librarian will get little credit if 


he does his work well. 

do much which is difficult, is 

prehended by the public, and 

by perhaps the majority 

garded his work as purely mechanical, 
classed him far below the professions, 
estimated his services by those of the 
laborer, and been satisfied with the 
work of a shoddy contractor. This is 
illustrated by the case of a fine town li- 
brary containing several thousand vol- 
umes and kept to public satisfaction. In 
its catalogue one finds new chemistry 
and manual of chemistry in different 
places, an and the treated as leading 
words, and no assistance in topical re- 
search. When people look through a 
large library and then remark: "how 
long it must take you to read all of these 
books," we are not surprised if they 
think that in some way every book can 
take car« of itseif. But there are those 
who are familiar with the results of the 
best work and do not begin to appre- 
ciate the high grade of experience and charge 
education which enters into it. As Mr. ventor 


At best he must professions. More, there is a claim that 
not com- library administration does belong to a 
s ignored profession rather thaif-an employment. 
Many have re- Xot that librarians, in imitation of quacks 
and slight of hand performers, will be- 
stow upon themselves the title of profes- 
sors of bibliography. Nor will colleges 
soon be likely to follow the suggestion 
made by Mr. Perkins, and appoint pro- 
fessors of books and reading, although it 
would be both practical and useful. 

But at le ist librarians may claim the 
same distinctions as are made elsewhere; 
as are made between the man who 
pumps the organ and he who fingers the 
keys; as are made between the teacher 
of a primary school and the ripe culture 
which tills the chairs of a college. They 
have a right to claim that the man who 
comes to the business with the training 
of years, or has by experience fitted him- 
self for the work, shall no more be class- 
ed with the man who can do nothing 
about a library, except to dust books and 
them in a ledger, than the in- 
hall be classed with the hod- 

Winslow remarks, doubtless having cer- 
tain Boston officials in mind, " they say 
we have nothing to do and are fully 
equal to it." 

Not long since one of the most flour- 
ishing New England cities, almost perse- 
cuted a cataloguer who spent 'over two 
years on ten thousand volumes instead 
of disposing of them in six months as 
was expected. ' Take the matter of cata- 
logue, or as it has been called " the eye 
of the library," and we have a work 
which is never completed. It alone re- 
quires more labor than is publicly sup- 
posed to be necessary for the entire ad- 
ministration of a library. "The catalogue 
of the Boston Athemeum library will 
cost $100,000; and the cataloguing of 

carrier or the lawyer with his copyist. 
Xot to say much of the qualificationspf 
a librarian — whether business ability 
shall be first, or whether the book- worm 
is alone competent, or again whether the 
man is best whose mind is a cyclopaedia, 
inert in itself but useful to any one that 
cares to turn the leaves. Leaving out 
these questions, it is evident that a good 
general education is necessary, and that 
it must be only the basis for his training. 
It is this special training which will de- 
velop library science, give it a rank with 
the public, and allow the. public iu turn 
to be helped by it. In Germany a plea 
for this science has been made by Dr. 
Pullman* of the University of Freiburg. 
He argues the advantages of a uniform 

Harvard College library has employed system, and says in regard to special 

eighteen persons for sixteen years, and 
the work is not more than half complet- 
ed." But cataloguing, although the 
heaviest, is only one of the eighteen rou- 
tine duties mentioned by Rhees in his li- 
brary manual. Again, routine work 
is not sufficient; there is a demand for 
a3 high a grade of education and as 
much training as enters into any of the same source. 

training. *\Both theoretically and prac- 
tically the opinion is gaining ground 
that only a man specially trained for it 
can successfully fill the place of libra- 
rian. Such training belongs very prop- 
erly to the university course." The plan 

*See government report on libraries. 
The statistics used are mostly from the 



mapped out t overs three years of lec- 
tures, and contains among others, these 
subjects: general historj ; encyclopedia 
of science, with special regard to the 
best way of defining the limits of each 
science; history of literary productions, 
printing, and the book trade; some 
knowledge of the tine arts ; aud instruc- 
tion in library economy. In this coun- 
try even, with the tact of doing without 
it, special training is fast becoming a ne- 
cessity. A c.ollege education is only a 
starting point, and a subordinate place 
in a libiary has a tendency to give only 
a knowledge of part of the routine du- 
ties, and to produce skilled, rather than 
educated labor. The student who has 
passed through his three years' course 
and graduated from a school of theol- 
ogy, law or medicine, has probably done 
less work than would be required to 
make him reasonably proficient in li- 
brary management. While so many 
technical and professional schools like 
civil engineering are maintained through- 
out the country, it seems reasonable to 
suppose that there could be supported 
one school for making teachers for book 
uses. The course of such a school 
might extend through two years, part 
of the time being given to lectures and 
recitation, and each person attending be- 
ing required to be a student for the rest 
of the year in some library. Such a plan 
would reduce the expense, aid libraries 
in much of their work, and give a class 
of men educated and practical, who 
would be familiar, not with a particular 
library, but with libraries. And this in- 
troduces a second reason why there has 
been no more progress in library science 
— it is because every man has worked 
for himself, and has made little use of 
the improvements introduced by others. 
So in the beginning there is the loss of 
time in working out plans which are no 
advance on existing ones, instead of 
adopting settled ones as a starting place 
for improvements. Systems of classifi- 
cation illustrate this. Further on there 
is a loss when in every library is being 
done that which might be multiplied at 
a small cost by printing. And in the 
end there is the greatest loss in those 

things most essential for the use of read- 
ers, but, from their expense, out of the 
r::eu ul mos-S Htefwies*. "\ of these 
difficulties may be met by co-operation. 
Reference has already been made to cat- 
aloguing; this is costing, without print- 
ing, .from fifteen to fifty cents a volume, 
and may cost even more. As has been 
proposed this work might be done at 
some central library, and the card3 
printed and furnished at a small cost; 
or. as again suggested, the publisher 
might print slips with each book. Most 
libraries — particularly college libraries 
whwre most of the reading is done tow- 
ards an object or around a subject — can- 
not use more than half their value with- 
out an index catalogue; a co-operative 
sj*stem of cataloguing will give it at the 
expense of a make-shift. Again a large 
part of the thought most useful to schol- 
ars and many others, has been expressed 
through the reviews. It is hopelessly 
locked up without an index; but there 
is none covering the last twenty-five 
years, and no library alone can hope to 
fill the blank. This work, which is a 
revision of Poole's iudex, is in a fair 
way to be completed, either by Ameri- 
can co-operation or by the English index 
society. Then there would be a gain to 
users as well as to managers, if there ex- 
isted a uniform system for libraries. 
There should be hardly more difference 
in the manner of managing these than 
in the modes of teaching, and a book 
user should be almost as much at home 
in one library as in another, meeting 
new books as new faces, but feeling the 
general atmosphere unchanged. Some 
have gone so far as to hope for a uni- 
versal system of classification, which 
would give to every book at the time of 
its publication, an unchanging number, 
designating its place in every library. 
For the greatest utility this would need 
to be accompanied by general cata- 
logues, or bibliographies, so that those 
books in a given library could be desig- 
nated by marks, and users would know 
what books to look for elsewhere. 

The plan of a fixed number is partially 
met by the " Amherst system," which 
makes use of a decimal classification in 



such a way that all books on a given 
subject have a common number. If 
this w<ns in general, use shelf c-ita'.o?' - ! : 
would become classified lists, and any 
person could locate a book as easily as a 
letter in a word, or having given the 
number of a book, know the subject! .treat- 
ed by it. 

To settle such, and many other ques- 
tions, to forfeit by the results of expe- 
rience, to secure uniformity and econo- 
my in administration, and to give the 
profession a better and more useful posi- 

on a librarian's work in the Atlantic for 
November, 1S76. There was also a con- 



im o< 

the last year, and it seems that such 
meetings will become common. At 
this meeting seven countries were repre- 
sented, and the American delegation 
took a leading part in all the discus- 

If a librarian seeks for discoveries and 
wants his Africa, he will find it in bibli- 
ography. No one man can ever fully ex- 
plore the subject, and hence he must al- 

tion with the public, is ttie aim of the re- ways feel that he has not perfectly rnas- 

cently formed library association.. As 
far back as 1S53 there was a meeting 
looking toward such a result. Since 
then there have been from time to time 
volumes of library sketches or statistics, 
discussions by the Social Science Associa- 
tion, articles in the reviews, and notes 
by the press on improvements made or 
needed. But the interest for several 
years increasing, found expression during 
the centennial year. There was first the 
government report on libraries, which 
contained the results of the best work 
and thought in the country, and took the 
place of a cyclopaedia. Then was 
formed the Library Association which 

tered his profession. Not only that, he 
may expect to be approached from every 
department of learning and must nor be 
surprised if specialists deem him ignor- 
ant. More than. this, there is a field 
which stretches from the present back 
into the past as far as pen and ink have 
left a record. It is filled with titles, au- 
thors, printers, prices, histories of edi- 
tions, and literary notes. It has its 
scholars and writers, going, back from 
Allibone through Lowndes and Bronet, 
and among these are the specialists. 
There are the men who. as have sor^e of 
the French, consider the bibliography as 
the science of all sciences, dividing it 

held its first annual meeting at Philadel- into material and intellectual, and iuiro- 
phia in October. During the summer ap- during a special science for manuscripts, 
peared the first number of the American Some of these have written volumes 

Library Journal. The first volume of 
this monthly comprises 450 quarto pag- 
es, in its appearance has few equals', and 
contains probably the best index ever 
printed with an American periodical. It 
numbers among its contributors repre- 
sentatives of nearly all the large libra- 
ries, treats of no literary subjects and 
working with commiteees, discusses all 
questions relating to libraries from cap- 
ital letters to catalogues. Of course 
some recommendations are not binding, 

which are marvels of usefulness, and 
have made of books, divisions and sub- 
divisions so learned and minute tha: it 
is less labor to do without than to master 
them. Others have made classifications 
purely fanciful, like that of Denis vr'no 
had a division into seven classes, based 
upon the words of Solomon: "Wisdom 
hath builded a house, she hath hewc out 
her seven pillars ;" or like that of another 
writer who proposed to group all books 
under morals, sciences, and devotion. 

but as they come from a comparison of Then there are the men who are misers 
the best methods, and there is a strong of books, whose happiness is bound up 
desire to get at uniformity, they are pret- in large paper copies and rare editions — 
ty sure to recommend themselves and Aldine3 and Elzivers. They are the col- 
come into generai use. The work done lectors divided by Burton in his Book. 
has awakened much biblic interest and Hunter into ; * private prowlers" and 
there have been frequent comments and " auction haunters." '-Book madmen." 
discussions in the daily press. Among they are called by Dibdin, who was the 
longer articles the most noticable is one much honored historian and admirer of 


the disease. Its symptoms we have in seum. It may not, like the library of 

his "Bibliomania," as well as many 
notes on men who have spent rhtrir lives 
in the collection of books i; cheaply 
bought with thrice their weight in gold." 
In his imagination an auction was a 
skillfully manceuvered battle, and the 
sale of a "Boccacio" u a Waterloo 
among books." 

But pleasant as this field may be to a 
man of leisure, and profitable as it is to 
librarians, few are those who can indulge 
the taste, or become book-hnnters. An 
American librarian, with indexing, cir- 
culation and the books of the day crowd- 
ing every department. must, in a majority 

Paris, count its books by millions ; but 
evwy volume must be like a sentinel on 
duty, and the arrangement must be such 
that it can be determined at once what 
belongs to any department or subject. 
The old world has beyond comparison 
more resources for the scholar in its li- 
braries; but in rapidity of circulation, 
inflexibility of management, in ability to 
reach the people, and in much that goes 
to constitute the true public library, Eu- 
rope must yield to America. In fact it 
claimed that the popular library, tak- 
ing that of Philadelphia as the represent- 
ative, is older here than in England. 

of cases, consign bibliography as well The public library of the future is to be 

as antiquarian and many other kinds of 
research, to specialists. He must first 
be practical, and administer for the ma- 
jority, yet if he would be in the highest 
sense successful, he must not only live 
in the atmosphere of the catalogue, but 

like the school, within the reach of ev- 
ery one. It is to have the benefit of spe- 
cial laws and possibly special taxes, to 
be paid the most cheerfully of all. 
Small assessments accomplish large re- 
sults in furnishing reading, and there is 

also consider bibliography, with its more the constantly 
than twenty thousand volumes, as a con- 
tinually to be drawn upon and inexhaust- 
ible storehouse. 

A perfect library system is one of 
those thiugs which are many years in 
the future. We can tell some of the 
conditions which must enter into it and 

increasing assistance of 
endowments. The commissioner of edu- 
cation notes that of thirty seven towns 
and cities where libraries have been es- 
tablished, thirty-two voted unanimously 
for them, and in the remaining five cities 
the vote was three to one in their favor. 
Eight states already have library stat- 

quite definitely many things which must utes and eleven states have public libra- 
ries. It is noticable that of the li- 
braries mentioned Massachusetts pos- 
sesses two-thirds, and the same ratio of 
the 1.300.000 volumes. But while this 
small part of our really public libraries 
has only a fifth more volumes than the 

be excluded. The old world has price- 
less treasures in manuscripts and untold 
wealth in volumes, but from the very 
bulk of the collections as found In the 
large libraries, a change of system be- 
comes impossible. The past has be- 

queathed them methods cumbersome and British Museum, it represents a wide in- 

unsuited to the present and to a reading flueuce in a circulation of nearly five 

people. The improvements in methods millions, and probably twice that num- 

of administration are not to be found in Der f readers. As the use of all classes 

the old collections, with their flavor of f libraries increases, so must the scien- 

scholarship and antiquity, but in the li- tific knowledge of how to use them, 

braries which have grown up in the And it is probable that in the future li- 

manufacturing places like Manchester forary manuals will become text books 

and Leeds. The model library is not to rather than catalogues, and that their 

be arranged by gilt edges as was said of principles will be deemed as essential to 

one old collection. It is not to be an in- readers as book-keeping 10 business men. 

accessible buried assemblage of books In colleges there is no sufficient reason 

and manuscripts like that of the Vatican. why a limited time should not be given 

And it must not be without an index, to the study of bibliography or some- 

and hence open to the charge of being thing allied to it; and any student would 

pathless, as is said of the British Mu- be doubly paid for the time given by the 



ease with which he would get at any de- 
sired subject. Judging from their teu- 
cVncies. libraries will grow imo a m.v.- 
monform; classifications will be used 
which will save time aud convey infor- 
mation; co-operative systems of cata- 
loguing will reduce the drudgery of the 
librarian ; divisions into special and pro- 
fessional libraries will enable him to 
know books better than by their titles; 
and indexes will make available all ar- 
ticles of the day in periodicals. 

founder of the Rush library leave ont all 
newspapers, calling them ." teachers of 
dNj"! -nod thinking >" S -:ttle fefees'S m»d 
many other questions as we may. the li- 
brary of the future is to go hand in hand 
wfth tbe school and to that alone will 
its educational influence be secondary. 
The librarian must in the best sense of 
the word, be a teacher as well as a 
guide-board and a cyclopaedia in quota- 
tion marks. He is to furnish facts for 
the business man and artisan, help the 

There is lio slight question as to what scholar to the best thoughts, have at his 

books shall be characteristic fcf the libra- -command that which will give to every 

ryof the future. Shall we attempt to ere- mind amusement and sympathy, and be 

ateahigher standard of taste? or shall we the means of making many a never to be 

feed the mind in its crude form? Shall dissolved friendship between the living 

we draw the line between the false and men of the dead past and the living men 

the true at fiction? or shall we make that 
the nucleus supplying it to the full de- 
mand and believing with Mr. Poole that 
people read books better than them- 
selves? Shall we agree with George 
Ticknor that a second-class book that will 
command one reader is better than a 
first-class one which will remain upon 
the shelf? Shall we attempt to save ev- 

of the living present. Holmes has spok- 
en of libraries as chemical laboratories 
where all the best thoughts of men have 
been crystalized. But the large library of 
which we are speaking, will be a uni- 
versity on the most liberal plan, where 
the doors will never be closed arid the 
sessions never end; where every man 
will elect for himself and the course 

ery printed scrap? or shall we with the cover the entire domain of knowledge. 



The early settlers in Hopkinton soon 
experienced the effects of war. It was 
in consequence of the French War that 
the Indians broke into WoodwelTs gar- 
rison, surprised six persons in their beds 
and hurried them away into captivity, 
on the 22d' of April, 174G. From the 
same cause Abraham Kimball and Sam- 
uel Putney were captured by the In- 
dians on the 13th of April, 175S. From 
the second volume of the report of 
the Adjutant General of New Hamp- 
shire for 1SGG, we take the following 
item : 

"On the 27th* of April [1740] an attack 

♦The reader will notice a slight dis- 
crepency between the statements of 
this quotation aud our foregoing account ; 
it is a result of a difference between au- 

was made at Hopkinton. by the Indians, 
and eight persons taken captive. Capt. 
John Goffe was ordered to pursue the 
enemy, and in six days he was at Pen- 
acook (now Concord), with a company 
of fifty men in. pursuit of them. While 
at Penacook, news came of an attack 
upon Contoocook (now Boscawert*). 
Capt. Goffe immediately went in pursuit 
of the enemy, but without succesi. 
This scout ended about the 20th of May. 
Only a few of the men composing i: are 
known, as the roll is lost, and those only 
from the fact that Capt. Goffe persuaded 
them to re-enlist for another scout of :en 

These re-enlisted men were John 
Goffe, Nathaniel Smith, William Walk- 
er, Philip Kimball, James Stickuey. S:e- 



phen Flood, Jonathan Stevens. Josiah 
TT :-;ith, Soloctvbh Goodwin. Herbert Mor- 
rison, James Vants, William M&eAdams, 
William MacKeen, Joseph Simons, 
Zachariah Eastman. Caleb Dalton. 

In all new countries the administration 
of government is largely dependent upon 
military force. The first provincial mi- 
litia law affecting the people of Xew 
Hampshire was passed in 1713, and re- 
quired that all persons from sixteen to 
sixty years of age. excepting negroes aud 
Indians, should be liable to military duty. 
When national independence came to be 
agitated and a new government antici- 
pated, new laws were demanded. In 
177G. a law was passed instituting two 
inilitaiy bands, known as the Training 
Band and the Alarm Band. The first 
band included all the able bodied men 
from sixteen to fifty years of age, ex- 
cepting public officers, negroes, mullat- 
;oesand Indians; the second, all persons 
from sixteen to sixty-five, not included 
in the first. 

The active interest in the war for inde- 
pendence taken by the citizens of Hop- 
kinton is attested by the following scrap 
}f an account : 

Hopkinton Account. 

Capt. Jonathan Straw, pav Roll to 
Cambridge, 1775. £C0. 17 s.. 9 d. 

Capt. Joshua Bavlev. pay Roll, Alarm 
it Coos, 17S0, £12, "8 s", 7d. • 

The local population in Hopkinton 
ivas profoundly stirred by the passing 
?vents of the Revolution. On March 4, 
1776. Maj. (Isaac) Chaidler. Bay- 
ley and Moses Hill were made a commit- 
:ee of safety. On January 14, 1777, an 
let was passed procuring shovels. spades. 
)ne hundred pounds of gun powder, with 
lead and Hints*. On March 31, the town 
roted to raise sufficient money to procure 
;wenty-six men for the army; and - on 
April 14, that service already done should 
Reconsidered equal to service to come; 
ind again, on June 9. that the militia 
should have the same pay as soldiers. 
3n the 15th of January, 1778. a vote was 

*At that time an old law required each 
town to keep on hand for emergencies, 
one barrel of gunpowder, two hundred 
pounds of lead and three hundred flints. 

passed making the selectmen a commit- 
tee to provide for the families of non- 
ce -'.niui .->.-• iou<-d oairers and soldiers. In 
1779, March l.the town passed a signifi- 
cant vote, affecting the pecuniary com- 
pensation of its "continental soldiers," 
who, it decreed, should *' be made good 
as to the depreciation of money." The 
fact that a man was then demanding fif- 
teen dollars a day for labor arrests the 
importance of this act. In 17S0, Xov. 
20. the soldiers' rates were made payable 
in coin as well as in money; and on the 
5th of February of the following year, 
Maj. Chandler and the commissioned offi-' 
cers were authorized to employ soldiers 
and hire money for the purpose.* 

Hopkinton men fought on many bat- 
tle-fields of the Revolution, side by side 
with others of the different Xew England 
provinces. The records of the distinc- 
tive part performed by Hopkinton men 
are very meagre. While the soldiers 
were lighting abroad, public vigilance 
was alert at home. On March 4, 1776, 
the town passed an act deposing certain 
resident parties suspected of disloyalty 
from the privileges of public trust, and 
making official recognition of such a 
deed of public hostility. The list of sol- 
diers representing this town in the Rev- 
olution is long and honorable. In fact 
its length prevents its introduction into 
the present article. 

The success of the war for indepen- 
dence and the formation of a permanent 
plan of government determined new mil- 
itary laws. In the year 1786 the Legis- 
lature of Xew Hampshire passed a law 
instituting a training band, of men from 
sixteen to forty years of age, and an 
'\alarm list. ,? of men from forty to sixty. 
Each town of thirty-two privates and 

*In elucidation of the price paid to 
Revolutionary soldiers from this town, 
we offer the following from the records 
of a town meeting held on the 15th of 
May. 1777: 

•• Voted to accept the raits that is al- 
ready made for the warefare. 

k * Voted to allow to those Persons 
which hired men for three year before 
thear was any Committee Chose in Town 
for to hire men lor three year Equal 
month, with those which the Committee 
hired at Ninty Dolars the three year.'" 


the proper number of officers, should be 
entitled to form a company; a town of 
rhiety-two should have two companies. 
In the year 1792, a law was passed 
making companies in Boscawen, Salis- 
bury, Andover, New London and Kear- 
sarge Gore constitute a first battalion, 
and the companies in Hopkinton. War- 
ner, Sutton. Fishersfield and Bradford a 
second battalion, which should together 
constitute a 21st regiment. Iu 1819, 
the companies in Boscawen, Hopkinton, 
Salisbury and Andover were made to 
constitute a 21st regiment. In 1S42, the 
companies in Hopkinton. Henniker and 
Warner were made to constitute a 40th 
regiment. In 1S51, the New Hampshire 
militia, excepting what existed upon 
paper, was practically abolished. 

The militia law of 1792. with some 
modifications and amendments, was the 
essential law until the abolition of an- 
cient military customs. Under this law 
the militia of this town were called out 
for inspection and exercised in drill at 
least twice a year, in spring and fall, 
dressed in their common garb of citizen- 
ship. The officers of companies were 
attired in a swallow-tailed coat, with 
bell-buttons, and wore a bell-crowned 
cap and plume. Independent compa- 
nies, however, were thoroughly uni- 
formed. A body of cavalry known as 
41 The Troop, '* belonging to the old 
21st regiment, and subsequently mus- 
tering with the new 40th regiment, 
contained members from Hopkin- 
tou, who were dressed in a red coat 
trimmed with yellow facings, white 
pants, a bell-crowned cap, and a white 
plume with a red tip. Connected with 
the 21st regiment, and continuing until 
1851, was a company of Hopkinton rifle- 
men, who for many years wore a blue 
suit — spencer and pants — a bell-crowned 
cap and black plume; afterwards they 
adopted a gray suit, with a modern cap 
surmounted with three black feathers. 
There was also a company of light in- 
fantry dressed in a blue coat and white 
pants, ornamented on the lower leg 
with two rows of black buttons, and 
wearing a bell-crowned cap with a white 
plume tipped with red. The light in- 


fantry was subsequenty superseded > % 

the '"Cold Water Phalanx/' a company 
oi' men- fb'^^eu in a blav,. • *lvet eoat. 
trimmed with red, and while pants bear- 
ing a red stripe, and also wearing a mc<i~ 
ern cap with three white feathers. 

There are still living m Hopkintos 
many of the old officers of militii. 
Among them are Col. William Colby 
Capt. Benjamin Lovering. Capt. William 
Palmer. Capt. Moses Hoy:. Capt. Isaac 
Story and Capt. E. E. Currier. 

In the earlier times a tract of land 
was set apart by the town :';r a " train- 
ing field.'' The spot selected was on 
Putney's Hill, on the present Powell 
farm, south of the house, on the wes: 
side of the principal road. In the year 
1796, the town voted to lease the field 
for 999 years, and it passed Into the pos- 
session of Nathaniel Roweii. 2nd subse- 
quently into the hands of Moses Powell, 
whose descendants own i: : 3 this day. 
In later times rents were :i:dfor the 
use of grounds for military r. ^rade. 

The war of 1812 found the people of 
Hopkinton ready to do their r art iu main- 
taining the integrity of the country. 
On July 6, 1812, the town v::ed to al- 
low a compensation of seven dollars a 
month to all soldiers detached from their 
regiments as a relay corps by order of 
the general government. Ten dollars of 
each mau's wages was to be paid in ad- 
vance, and two dollars upon •• signing 
his name." In 1S14. October 5. twelve 
dollars a month was voted to all sol- 
diers put under special governmental 
requisition, wich two dollars upon en- 
tering actual service. The last clause of 
this vote, however, was afterward re- 

During the progress of hostilities, two 
recruiting officers, Gibson and Peek, 
were stationed for a longer or shorter 
time at Capt. Brimsley Perking tavern, 
where they enlisted men for the army. 
Many men enlisted for this war have lost 
their identity in the regime..: to which 
they belonged. The firs: volunteers 
from this town were mostly or wholly 
included in Hie 1st regiment of New 
Hampshire troops, enlisting for one 
year and rendezvousing a: Concord. 



The field and staff officers of this regi- 
jiaenl v.-ere as follows: — Aquila Davis, 
'Colonel; John Carter, Lieutenant-Colo- 
'nel; William Bradford, Major; James 
Minot, 1st Lieutenant and Adjutant; Jo- 
seph Low, 2d Lieutenant and Quarter- 
master; Henry Lyman, Acting Sur- 
geon's Mate; John Trevitt, Acting Sur- 
geon's Mate; Timothy D.Abbott, Ser- 
geant Major; Nicholas G. Beane. Quar- 
termaster Sergeant; Thomas Bailey, 
Drum Major; Xehemiah Osgood, Fife 

This regiment went into camp on the 
first of February, 1S13, and left for Bur- 
lington early in the spring. On the first 
day of its march it passed through Hop- 
kinton, halting at the village for rations. 
This halt gave many people an opportu- 
nity to reflect upon the trials of soldiers. 
Although the troops had marched only 
seven miles, some were already jagged 
and footsore. 

The 1st Regiment of Xew Hampshire 
Volunteers was soon disbanded. On the 
29th of January. 1S13, Congress repealed 
the '* Volunteer Act.'' and the soldiers 
enlisting under this act were re-enlisted 
into the regular Lnited States Army, or 
reformed into new regiments, to serve 
:ill the time of their volunteer service 
Bxpired. The soldiers of the 1st Xew 
Hampshire Regiment of Volunteers who 
were not re-enlisted, were consolidated 
svith Col. McCobb's regiment from 
Maine, becoming known as the 45th reg- 
ment, with field and staff officers as fol- 
ows :— Denny McCobb. Colonel ; Aquila 
Davis, Lieutenant-Colonel: H. B. Bree- 
rort, 1st Major; Daniel Baker, 2d Ma- 
or; Joseph Low. Paymaster; Daniel 
j. Kelley, Sergeant Major. This regi- 
nent, at the expiration of the term of 
enlistment, was recruited by Paymaster 
'iOw, and was at Burlington for service 
n the early spring of 1S14. 

The well-remembered alarm at Ports- 
nouth aroused afresh the military spir- 
t of Xew Hampshire in 1S14. During 
he winter of 1S13 and 1811. British ves- 
sels of war were cruising along the Xew 
England coast, while maintaining a ren- 
lezvous at Bermuda Islands, as well as 
me at Gardiner's Bay, at the east end of 

Long Island, their naval depot being at 
Halifax, in Xova Scotia. On the Sth of 
April, loll, a Ihinsh force -v: ended the 
Connecticut River and destroyed about 
twenty American vessels collected there 
for safety. On the 23d of the same 
month. Admiral Cockburne, rendezvous- 
ing at the Bahamas, issued a proclama- 
tion declaring the whole Atlantic coast 
of the United States in a State of block- 
ade. Soon after about thirty or forty 
.American coasting vessels were de- 
stroyed in Massachusetts Bay. These 
circumstances spread great alarm, not 
only throughout Xew England in gen- 
eral, but throughout Xew Hampshire, 
particularly on account of the insecurity 
of the harbor and town of Portsmouth 
and the adjacent navy yard at Kittery, 
Me. A detachment of eight companies 
of militia, under the command of Maj. 
Edward J. Long, were ordered to the de- 
fense of Portsmouth. 

Very soon an event occurred arousing 
the ardor of the people of Xew Hamp- 
shire to a high pitch. We copy an ac- 
count of the occurrence from the "An- 
nals of Portsmouth," by Xathaniel Ad- 

"Tuesday, June 21st, between the 
hours of ten and eleven o'clock in the 
evening, the town was alarmed by a re- 
port that the British were landing at 
Rye Beach. Alarm bells were rung 
and signal guns fired. All the military 
companies turned out with alacrity and 
prepared for the attack. A martial spir- 
it pervaded all ranks, and they glowed 
with ardor to be led to the place of dan- 
ger. Expresses were dispatched to as- 
certain the situation of the enemy, and 
the report proved to be without founda- 
tion. It was occasioned by some boats 
of a suspicious character that were ob- 
served off Rye Harbor by the the guard 
stationed. The inhabitants again re- 
tired stationed ther the sweets of re- 

Although the above affair was only a 
"scare," there is no doubt the British 
intended an attack on the defenses of 
Portsmouth and destruction of the adja- 
cent navy yard. Report tells us that, 
after the close of the war, a British orS- 



cer confessed to an American colonel 
that, during the Investment of the New 
England cou^t, he a:v^-ied the Piseac:!- 
qua river, in the disguise of a fisherman, 
and inspected the defenses of Ports- 
mouth, reporting to his commanding of- 
ficer on his return that the place was 

The citizens of this town took but lit- 
tle active interest in the Mexican War. 
Caf>& Puul R. George was a Quarur- 
master in that war. taking with him El- 
bridge Burbank and David Caifcon. \T« 
do n<>t know that there were other resi- 
dents of this town in that service. All 

abundantly defended and swarmed with three of the parties returned. 

soldiers. This information doubtless 
had its influence in diverting the British 
from the proposed attack. 

The popular excitement created by 
this alarm at length induced the Gov- 
ernor, on the 7th of September, to order 

The civil war of 1S61 found the citi- 
zens of this town in a state of mind com- 
mon to a large part of our country's pop- 
ulation. So long a time had passed 
since the people of our town had taken 
anv active interest in war, the expeii- 

put detainments from twenty-three reg- e nee had come to be looked upon as a 

comparative impossibility, or the threat- 
ened contest would be an event of the 
shortest possible duration. However, 
when, on the 13th of April, the bom- 
bardment of Fort Sumpter made the 
presence of war inevitable, the ardor of 
our populace became deeply aroused. 
Bells were rung, flags suspended, pro- 
cessions formed and speeches made. 
The call of the President on the loth of 
the month, for an army of 75,000 men. 
confirmed the patriotism of our young 
men, and they soon began to enlist into 
the ranks. .The first man enlisted in the 
town was James B. Silver; he was en- 
listed in Dea. Nathaniel Evans 1 store, 
where Kimball & Co. now trade, by J. 
X. Paterson, of Contoocook, who had 
just taken out enlistment papers. Oth- 
er parties from this town had already 
enlisted in Concord. Patterson enlisted 
a number of men, who rendezvoused at 
Contoocook until they were ordered to 
join the Second Regiment of New 7 Hamp- 
shire Volunteers at Portsmouth. On 
their departure they were escorted 
through the main street to the depot by 
the Hopkinton Cornet Band, which also 
accompanied them to Portsmouth. A 
largo number of people witnessed their 
departure with evident manifestations of 
grief at the occasion and the loss. 

During the progress of the war the 
town of Hopkinton did her part in main- 
taining the cause of the Union. One of 
her first public acts, after the beginning 
of hostilities, was to adopt the State 
law, passed June session, 1861, authoriz- 
ing the towns to provide assistance for 

iments of militia for the stronger defense 
of Portsmouth. Two days after he is- 
sued general orders putting all the mi- 
litia of the State in readiness for march- 
ing at a moment's notice; the detach- 
ments from the twenty-three regiments 
were to march to Portsmouth immedi- 
ately. Arrived at their place of destina- 
tion, the detached infantry was organ- 
ized into a brigade of five regiments and 
one battallion, under the command of 
Brigadier General John Montgomery, 
assisted by James I. Swan, Brigade- 
Major, and George H. Montgomery, Aid- 

The following soldiers from Hopkin- 
ton were in the First Regiment, Lieut. 
Col. Nat. Fisk, in Capt. Jonathan Beau's 
company: — Thomas Towne, 1st Lieu- 
tenant, acting Quartermaster from Sep- 
tember 18; Moses Gould, Sergeant; 
Robert A. Bradley, Samuel Burbank, 
Barrach Cass, David C. Currier, Amos 
Eastman, John 'J. Emerson, Ebenezer 
Morrill, John Morey, Isaac Pearce. Ha- 
zen Putney, Jacob Straw. William Wheel- 
er, privates. These men were all enlist- 
ed for a service of ninety days from Sep- 
tember 11, 1S14. The following were in 
the Second Regiment. Lieut. Col. John 
Steele, iu Capt. Silas Call's Company:— 
Nathaniel Morgan. Sergeant; Jacob 
Chase, Amos Frye. John Johnson. John 
Hastings, Alvin Hastings, Francis Stan- 
ley (died in service), James Eastman, 
Amos Sawyer, Jonathan Gove. William 
M. Crillis, John Burnham, privates. 
These men were all enlisted on the 2d 
of October, 1814. to dates running from 
November 8 to November 10. 



the families of volunteers ; this was done a spirited activity to the people of Xew 

on the 29th of October. Hampshire. Such words as were ut- 

The summer of 1S62 witnessed a new corou iiv Gov. GH more hi hi? proelama- 

impetus to military affairs. On the 4th tion of the 16th of July tally awakened 

of August of that year the President of the people of the different towns to a 

the United States issued a call for 300,- practical comprehension of the situation. 

000 men for a service of nine months. u Our quota," said the Governor, "is to 

Under two calls, both issued in July, be tilled by volunteering if we can, by 

1861, the government had already made drafting if we must." In view of the 

demands for GOO. 000 men for three reigning crisis of that year, the town of 

years. Impelled by these calls, at a pub- Hopkinton took formal action on the 

lie meeting held on the 26th of August, 4th of June, voting to raise $40,000 for 

1S62, the town voted to pay $150 each to 
all soldiers who had enlisted for the war 
since the last call for troops ; to all who 
had or would enlist after the first of Au- 
gust to fill up old regiments. 6200 each; 
to all who would enlist for nine months, 
§75 each; and to all who would from 
that date enlist for three years, and dur- 
ing the war. 8200 each. The same day a 
vote was passed to assist the families of 
soldiers to an extent not exceeding 
twelve dollars a week,— or four dollars 
for a wife and the same amount for each 
child not exceeding two. Soon after, 
Patrick H. Stark and Daniel E. Howard 
were made enlisting officers. On the 2d 
of October the same year, another vote 

the encouragement of voluntary enlist- 
ments, and also to pay $300 each to 
drafted men or their substitutes. On 
the Sth of November, the town voted to 
authorize the selectmen to enlist or oth- 
erwise procure soldiers in anticipation of 
any call. 

Enough has been written to illustrate 
the general promptness and liberality 
with which the town of Hopkinton as- 
sumed her share of the pecuniary bur- 
dens of the war. The responses to her 
appeals for volunteers were fully as 
ready and prompt as could be expected 
in a town of her population and charac- 
ter. Only a few of her population were 
drafted into the army of the United 

was passed, giving $150 to men enlisting States. We think, also, that none of 
for nine months, or $200 each if the our people were compelled by the draft 
quota was filled. to take a position in the ranks of war. 
The year 1S64 was one of great activity Of those entering the army, many re- 
in the United States. The resolution to turned, but also many died. Some of the 
maintain the integerity of the Union bodies of the dead were brought home 
became as determined as the urgency of and interred, but others sleep in distant 
the situation was great. On February or unknown grounds; their memory is 
1st of that year, a call was issued for cherished in the hearts of a grateful peo- 
600,000 men for three years, a part of pie. 
whom were to be credited to the darft, - The Report of the Adjutant General of 

under a call fur 300.000 men. on the 17th 

'of October, 18G3, the enforcement of 

which draft was not completed, owing to 

a defect in the law under which it was 

Xew Hampshire; Vol. II. 1S65, thus 
states the summary of our war record: 
Enrollment. April 30, 1SG5. ISO; total of 
quota under all calls from July, 1863, 

made. The call of February 1, there- S6; total credits by enlistments or drafts, 
fore, formed a total of all calls after 115; surplus, 23. 

1>62. On the 14th of March, 1S64, an ad- 
ditional call for 200.000 was issued; this 
was succeeded bj r a call lor 500.000 on 
the 18th of July, and another and a last 
one for 300,000 on the 19th of December 
of the same year. 

The urgency of the national situation 
during the memorable year of 1864 gave 

The amount of money authorized to be 
appropriated for war uses, exclusive of 
sums paid to soldiers' familes, was some- 
thing over $100,000. 

The length of this article precludes 
mention of the names of our soldiers en- 
gaged in tiie war of 1861. 

160 DECEMBER 2, 1S7S. 


A dull, brown earth, o'erarched by dull gray sky; 

Cold, sobbing raindrops dripping over all; 

Stark trees with arms that wildly rise and fall, 
Made frantic as the dirge-like winds sweep by. 
Like tattered rags the vines hang from the rack; 

No spot of color shows, the eye to cheer; 
The wet. black walks, like mirrors picture back 

The dismal scene, and make it doubly drear. 
One lonely face looks from a window nigh; 

One lonely passer plods the sloppy street. 
The world is dead; and nature's wailing cry 

Thrills human hearts with its own anguish deep. 
O, spread the snowy pall and hide from sight 
This wreck of what was once so fair and bright. 

— Laura Garland Carr. 


Art thou truly, wholly changed? 

Have I truly, wholly lost thee? 
To all the world will I complain 

That thou hast hardly used me. 

O, say ye most unthankful lips, 
.How can ye speak in scornful ways 
Of the man who oft and fondly 
Kissed you in the happ}* days? 

— Ellen M. Mason. 









yoL. ii. 

MARCH, 1879. 

]S T 0. 6. 


Among the young men of New 
Hampshire whose names have been 
prominent in our state politics during 
the past few years, Herbert F. Norris of 
Epping, is one of the m,ost active and 
well known. 

The Norrises of Epping, and most of 
those bearing the name in this section 
of the country, are the descendants of 
seven brothers who were among the first 
settlers of that town, then a portion of 
Exeter, who located upon farms in the 
same vicinity, all lying along the road 
from Epping village to West Epping. 
The name was prominent in the early- 
history of the town, several of its repre- 
sentatives taking a prominent part in 
public and military affairs. We find, in 
fact, that precisely one hundred years 
previous to the election of the subject 
of our sketch as a member of the legis- 
lature from Epping, in 1877, the town 
was represented in that body by one 
Josiah Norris. 

Herbert F. Norris was born in Ep- 
ping, July 28, 1849. He is the eldest 
of five children (two sons and three 
daughters) of Israel F. Norris, a farm- 
er, of that town. His early years were 
spent in labor upon his father's farm, 
and in attending the district school. 
Subsequently he attended the high 

school in the neighboring town of Ray- 
mond about a year, and was afterwards 
engaged in teaching se\teral terms in 
his own town. In December, 1S70, he 
entered the N. H. Conference Seminary 
at Tilton, and graduated in the college 
preparatory course in the summer of 
1S72, taking high rank in his class, 
which was one of the largest ever grad- 
uated from that institution. While in 
the Seminary he developed a decided 
talent for debate, and was an acknowl- 
edged leader in society matters. He 
had contemplated a college course at 
Dartmouth, but was prevented from en- 
tering with the class that year, by a se- 
vere illness, and finally relinquished the 
idea. Upon his recovery he engaged 
in teaching, being successively engaged 
at West Epping, Fremont, and South 
Newmarket, and going immediately 
from the latter place to take charge of 
the Academy at Canaan, for the spring 
term of 1873. Subsequently he taught 
another term of school at Epping, re- 
turning to Canaan as principal again in 
the fall, and also teaching the next 
spring term of that academy. Mean- 
time, in December, 1873, ne entered 
as a student at law in the office of 
Eastman, Page & Albin at Concord, 
and upon the close of the spring term 



summer, which tested severely the ca- 
pacity of various members on each 
side of the house for leadership, debate 

high reputation in all these capacities. 
With large mental resources and per- 
fect self-control, never taken by surprise 
by any device of his opponents, he 
proved himself equal to all emergen- 
cies, gaining in the various contests 
which occurred, the fullest confidence 
of his own party as an able and fearless 
leader, and of the opposition as an 
honorable though uncompromising foe. 

He was the youngest member of the 
Judiciary Committee in the house, and 
the youngest man who has served upon 
that committee for many years. As a 
ready debater he> had few equals, and 
no superiors in the house. His man- 
ner as a speaker is easy and pleasing. 
He states his positions plainly and for- 
cibly, and draws his conclusions- in a 
clear and logical manner. 

The Manchester Mirror, in reviewing 
the history and personnel of the last 
legislature, alluded to Mr. Norris in 
the following terms : " No Democrat 
in the house has grown so much in 
popular estimation this session as he, 
and he is altogether the worst customer 
the majority have to deal with. He has 
improved much as a parliamentarian 
and a speaker, and there are not many 
men on either side who can match him 
in either capacity. His strongest point 
is his ability to use all his powers 
at a moment's notice, and to adapt him- 
self to the demands of the occasion." 

The Independent Statesman also 
paid him the following handsome com- 
pliment : "Herbert F. Norris, 'the 
from Epping,' and 

of 1874 at Canaan, he established him- 
self in the office for the completion of 
his legal course. While pursuing his 
• wdies here, he was engaged to so«*e 
extent in newspaper work, and became 
the regular New Hampshire corre- 
spondent of the Boston Post. He also 
served for two years as clerk of the 
Concord police court, and taught for 
two terms in the Concord schools. He 
was admitted to the bar at the October ■ 
term for 1S76, at Concord, and imme- 
diately commenced practice in the of- 
fice where he had pursued his studies, 
as a partner of W. T. Norris, Esq., of 
Danbury, who had previously become 
a member of the firm, in place of Mr. 
Albin, the firm of Page ec Norris then 
being dissolved. The firm of W. T. 
and H. F. Norris continues, and en- 
joys a liberal share of patronage, espe- 
cially in criminal practice. The firm 
were engaged in the defence of the no- 
torious La Page, and also of Johnson, 
the Bristol wife murderer. 

Mr. Norris comes of Democratic 
stock, and has from boyhood been 
strongly attached to the principles of 
the Democratic party, for whose success 
he has earnestly labored. He has been 
a delegate to the Democratic state con- 
vention from his native town, where he 
has always maintained his voting resi- 
dence, nearly every year since attain- 
ing his majority, and has taken an 
active part in the deliberations of that 
body. He was also for two years pre- 
vious to October last, secretary of the 
Democratic state committee, and did 
efficient work in the conduct of politi- 
cal campaigns. 

In 1877, Mr. Norris was chosen a 
member of the legislature from Epping, 

and during the session of that year the parliamentary leader of the minori- 
took an active and prominent part not ty did full justice to the confidence re- 
only in the debates upon the floor, but posed in him by his party associates. 

Young War Eaele 

in the work of the Judiciary Commit- 
tee, of which he was a member. Re- 
elected to the house in 18 78, he was hon- 
ored by the Democratic members with a 
unanimous nomination for the speaker- 
ship, a position which he was eminently 
qualified to fill had the strength of his 
party been adequate to his election. 

Alert and ready, he gave the majority a 
good deal of trouble and the Speaker 
no end of perplexity. * * 
Cool of manner, moderate of speech 
and persistent in purpose, he could not 
be easily disconcerted or put down." 

Mr. Norris is the youngest man who 
has received a nomination for congress 

During the protracted session of last from either party in this state, since the 



time of Franklin Pierce, being now 
under thirty years of age. He was 
united in marriage in May last, with 
Miss Belle E. Mower, daughter of L. 
L. Mower, Esq., clerk of the common 
council of the city of Concord. 

As a member of the Rockingham 
county delegation the past two years, 
Mr. Norris has actively participated in 
the consideration of county affairs, and 
was appointed one of the county Audi- 
tors each year by the delegation. 

At the Democratic Congressional 
Convention for the First Congressional 
District, at Rochester, on the first of 
October last, Mr. Norris was nomi- 

nated with remarkable unanimity upon 
the first formal ballot, as the candidate 
of his party for Representative in Con- 
gress, receiving ±94 votes, against 2$ 
for Lafayette Chesley, 1 7 for Thomas 
J. Smith, and S for Thomas J. Whipple, 
and this without any effort upon his 
part to secure the nomination. He ac- 
cepted the candidacy, and immediately 
entered upon an active canvass, ad- 
dressing the people upon the issues of 
the day in various sections of the dis- 
trict, and making a gallant contest, al- 
though little hope of the success of his 
party in the district was entertained 
from the start. 



We turn dame Nature's plans about 

To suit our wayward fancies. 
When driving storms and winds are out, 

And frost views meet our glances ; 
The fruits and berries that grew bright 

In pleasant sun and showers. 
Bring summer flavors to delight 

The dreary winter hours. 

By a few tricks of light and heat 

The floral seasons vary. 
And wax-like May buds open sweet 

In snow-bound January. 
The cold grows fierce. In many a farm 

The icy evils gather: — 
In vine-decked rooms, by firesides warm. 

We laugh at winter weather. 

O, happy they who can defy 

Years as we do the season! 
Who keep youth's buoyant spirits by 

To blend with age's reason. 
Though hair grows white, and face and form 

Show Time's defacing finger, 
He cannot chill the heart-beats warm, 

Where youthful fancies linger. 





The first weekly newspaper published 
in Concord, made its appearance 
January 6, 1790. It was issued by 
Mr. George Hough, a native of Boz- 
rah, Conn, who came to Concord from 
Windsor. Vt., where he had published 
the Vermont Journal. The four pages 
of the Herald were each nine by four- 
teen inches, and bore the marks of care 
and correct taste. Within a year or two 
the paper was enlarged and appeared 
as the ''Courier of New Hampshire." 

I have derived great satisfaction in 
examining such files of " Hough's Con- 
cord Herald " and his " Courier of 
New Hampshire " as came in my, way ; 
and am of opinion that if those files 
were now submitted to a discriminating 
committee of printers, they who com- 
posed it would be surprised, that with 
his scanty materials and the rude hand 
press of those days, Mr. Hough con- 
trived to bring out a sheet, which, for 
typographical correctness, methodical 
arrangement, and general good taste, 
would come off victor in a competi- 
tive examination with many journals of 
the present day. 

I knew George Hough in my boy- 
hood days — he being a frequent and 
ever-welcome guest in my father's 
house, and a favorite whithersoever he 
went. He permitted his "moderation 
to be known of all men." and I can 
never forget the care with which he 
always prepared and the deliberation 
with which he ate an apple, when that 
was the fruit passed around, or how 
systematically he punctuated his path, 
as he walked from his dwelling, now 
the abode of Dr. Russell, to his office. 
I was several months in his office, sup- 
plying the place of Moses G. Atwood, 
Esq., who died some years ago in Alton, 
111., and, in common with all who were 
ever in his service, bear testimony to 
his uniform kindness. As was apt to 

be the case with printers of papers at 
that time, he had not much aptitude 
with his pen, except to write a verv 
round, legible and faultless hand. He 
had passed through no training that 
prepared him to perform literary labor, 
even for the columns of a village jour- 
nal. He wrote, however, with gram- 
matical accuracy, but had very little 
mental vigor, and it may be doubted if 
he could have written a pungent para- 
graph, however favorable the opportu- 
nity, or whatever his provocation. But 
his correct mechanical taste and nat- 
ural good sense were auxiliaries which 
enabled him to produce a weekly pa- 
per that was by no means so far behind 
those of Boston as Concord was less 
than the commercial metropolis of New 
England. He had such appreciation 
of the necessities of readers that he 
was careful to select, from the meagre 
supplies at his command, an amount of 
foreign and domestic occurrences fully 
equal to the capacity of his columns, 
and to issue his supplies with as much 
prompitude and completeness as was 
practicable at a period in our history 
when the transportation of mails was 
irregular, the arrival of ships still more 
so, and village journals were diminu- 
tive sheets. I have many times 
taken notice, in files of Hough's 
" Courier of New Hampshire," of its 
foreign news feature, and been enter- 
tained by perusal of its columns long 
after the events there recorded ceased 
to disturb and interest mankind. The 
celebrated speech of Maximilian Ro- 
bespierre, delivered in the national con- 
vention of France, July 26, 1794, 
three days only before its author as- 
cended the scaffold, is to be found in 
the Courier, — a proof that Mr. Hough 
was desirous of doing all in his power 
to supply readers with the momentous 
transactions of that period. 



Mr. Hough was not without a com- 
petitor, even in this circumscribed 
newspawer field. "The Mirror," by 
Elijah Russell, was issued several years 
at the north end of Main street. It 
never, I think, equaled Hough's Her- * 
aid, or his Courier of New Hampshire. 
Such numbers as I have seen lacked 
evidence of the good sense and cor- 
rect taste perceptible in sheets of which 
Mr. Hough had the supervision. 

Many of the inland journals of that 
period partook of scrap-book charac- 
ter. Riddles, acrostics, ton mots, 
anecdotes, bad verses, weak communi- 
cations, and wretched "hits" at one 
another by rival local politicians, con- 
stituted the average bill of fare of "The 
Mirror" and its north-end successor 
"The Star." Neither in the Mirror, 
the Star, nor the Courier was such a 
production ever found as what has been 
known as "a leader :" an article occu- 
pying a conspicuous position, and treat- 
ing some topic of timely popular con- 
cern with vigor and ability, and at 
•sufficient length to set it forth in a proper 
manner. If articles of that character, 
since so common in the journals of 
New Hampshire, had appeared in those 
published in the closing years of the 
last century, or early ones of this, the 
people would have believed that indeed 
"a Daniel had come to judgment." 
The town would certainly have been 
stirred, and the author, if discov- 
ered, been regarded as a mira- 
cle of literary power. The " lead- 
ers " of journals here spoken of 
were apt to be the record of a mar- 
riage, the weight of an overgrown beet 
or calf, or such a paragraph as this, in 
Hough's Herald, December 7, 1790: 
"'No Boston post arrived; all news, 
we believe, is frozen up by the cold 
weather. We have not even a report 
with which we can serve up a paragraph 
for our hungry customers." 

I am not in possession of the means 
by which to trace the rise, progress and 
fall of the several papers which bore 
the Concord imprint from 1790 to 
1809, but it is certain that the life of 
each was a constant but unavailing 
struggle against circumstances, the dis- 

couraging nature of which can, even at 
this distant day, be readily appreciated. 
The people had not become accustomed 
to the expenditure of money for the 
gratification of literary taste ; indeed, 
many mechanics, traders and farmers 
were often at their wit's end to obtain 
money with which to pay their taxes 
and provide for more imperatively ne- 
cessary articles than books and papers. 
Inter-communication, also, was slow 
and uncertain. Partisan politics had 
not become permeated by enduring 
heat, and only few men. not the mass 
as now, had formed the habit of dili- 
gently following up current political 
events. * Within my recollection all the 
papers received in a week in Concord 
from abroad could be placed in the 
crown of a stove-pipe hat of the pres- 
ent day, and the garment worn without 
much discomfort, while town subscri- 
bers of the local press did not proba- 
bly number an hundred and fifty. 

But the papers of that period were 
equal to the encouragement the}- re- 
ceived. Greater expenditure in their 
behalf would not have materially aug- 
mented their income, and I have no 
hesitation in saying that Hough's 
"Courier of New Hampshire" was as 
fully up to those times, and as com- 
pletely answered the requirements of 
the people, as journals of the present 

In 1806, William Hoit and Jesse C. 
Turtle commenced a paper bearing the 
title " Concord Gazette," of which 
more will be found in a succeeding 
portion of this essay. How long the 
firm of Hoit & Turtle existed, I cannot 
say, but in October, 1808, the senior 
member was encouraged to embark in 
a second enterprise, and commenced 
the publication of "The American Pat- 
riot." Its projectors were influential 
men, then bearing the partisan name of 
Republicans, afterward assuming that 
of Democratic Republicans, and, later 
still, Democrats. I knew Mr. Hoit 
well, for' he here labored in his pro- 
fession, I think, nearly fifty years, and I 
obtained some particulars regarding 
the establishment of the "American 
Patriot," -which, but for him, would 



have passed into oblivion. The Pat- 
riot was commenced in a small one- 
story building, standing where is now 
the dwelling 'Of the family of the late 
J. Stephens Abbott, Esq; Mr. Hoit 
had within him a humorous vein, and- 
his narrative of circumstances attend- 
ing the birth of the Patriot was of an 
amusing character. The plan, he in- 
formed me. was that the literary labor 
upon the Patriot should be performed 
by an " Association of Gentlemen." 
Several of this class assembled in the 
office the night preceding the appear- 
ance of the first number, and remained 
until morning, to the discomfort of 
Hoit and his workmen. Of the num- 
ber was Phillip Carrigan, author of the 
map of New Hampshire, which bears 
his name. The occasion became of 
very hilarious character, and would 
undoubtedly have been more so had 
the '''Association of Gentlemen" been 
capable of penetrating the future, and 
discerning the long period which "the 
paper then about to appear would en- 
dure. But, according to the narrative 
to us, some members of the association 
became so full of good drink that they 
fell asleep, and so remained through 
the night. 

TJie commencement of the " Amer- 
ican Patriot " was attended by circum- 
stances of no more favorable charac- 
ter than accompanied preceding at- 
tempts, except that Concord had been 
chosen in which to permanently hold 
the sessions of the legislature. In all 
probability the Patriot, after brief ex- 
istence, would have gone into the same 
grave as its predecessors, but for the 
fortunate circumstance that it came in- 
to the custody of a gentleman of the 
ability, industry and tact necessary not 
merely to rescue it from the fate of 
other village journals here, but to make 
it a power in New Hampshire. This 
person was the late Hon. Isaac Hill, 
who in his day acquired a reputation as 
a political writer and journalist second 
to that of no other newspaper con- 
ductor. He came to Concord soon 
after the expiration of his apprentice- 
ship with Joseph Cushing, proprietor 
and publisher of the "Amherst Cabi- 

inet." The "American Patriot" had 
been six months in existence. The 
first number printed by Mr. Hill is 
ia:^^} &pril iS. 1809. and thencefor- 
ward the people of New Hampshire 
came within an influence they had onlv 
impeilectly realized — the power of the 
press to mold and guide popular 
opinion. Mr. Hill was a man of de- 
cided convictions and untiring industry, 
wrote with great facility and vigor, and 
possessed that electric force by which 
a writer upon political affairs imparts 
to others the convictions and zeal pos- 
sessed by himself. Under his guiding 
hand the success of the Patriot was 
certain. It soon became a successful 
journal, attaining a wide and constant- 
ly increasing circulation ; greater than 
that of any preceding or contemporary 
journal in New Hampshire. A circum- 
stance which accelerated its growth 
was that difficulty with England which 
culminated in what is known as the war 
of 181 2-15. That the Patriot, in the 
hands of Mr. Hill, would have become 
permanent, even in years of profound 
calm, there is no reason to doubt : but 
it is equally certain that its growth 
would have been less rapid, because of 
the natural sluggishness of mankind un- 
til moved by exciting causes ; the dis- 
inclination of the people, during the 
first twenty years of the period here in 
review, to expend money for the grati- 
fication of literary taste, and the lim- 
ited amount of money in circulation. 

The only competitor of the "New 
Hampshire Patriot," from its com- 
mencement until the year 1823, was 
the "Concord Gazette" of which men- 
tion has just been made ; Hoit «x: Tut- 
tle proprietors and publishers. The 
scanty materials employed in printing 
the Gazette were purchased of Dudley 
Leavitt, the celebrated almanac author,. 
and were brought hither from Gilman- 
ton Comer in a two-horse wagon. 
They had been used for printing one 
number of the almanac, and a village 
paper. The circumstance that only 
two horses were required to transport 
two men and the materials with which 
a weekly paper was equipped, sixty-five 
years ago, is of sufficiently suggestive 



character, without any elaboration, to 
prove the slender resources and the 
j oually moderate requirements of the 
people of that generation upon the 

The "Concord frazette" was com- 
menced with the advice and under 
promise of material aid from gentle- 
men of the Federal party in Concord 
and vicinity. Its various publishers 
were Hoit & Tuttle, Tuttle alone, and 
Joseph and William Spear. Excepting 
a brief period when the paper was in 
charge of the late Hon. John Kelley of 
Exeter, it really had no reliable hand 
at the helm. But through the force of 
external circumstances the Gazette had 
a good circulation during several years ; 
but when the war was over, and the 
political excitement it caused had 
subsided, the Gazette languished, and 
languishing expired, in 181 8 — in the 
twelfth year of its age. I remember 
the paper well as it appeared through 
those years of its life that succeeded 
181 2. It had, for a vignette, a wretched 
imitation of the eagle, a ''counterfeit 
presentment " of the emblem bird, so 
badly engraven that its groundwork was 
black as ink. This caused the Patriot 
to adopt the practice of speaking of 
the Gazette as the "crow paper." But 
the party whose views it espoused had 
no other journal in central and north- 
ern New Hampshire, and they were 
subjected to "Hobson's choice" — the 
Gazette or nothing. William Hoit 
and Jesse C. Tuttle were the only pub- 
lishers of the Gazette whom I knew, 
and only them because they ended 
their days in Concord, within the re- 
collection of some men now in our 
midst ; each living many years after the 
Gazette ceased to be. Mr. Hoit was 
a native of Concord, but when a lad 
went hence with his father's family to 
Wentworth. He served five years as 
an apprentice to the printing business 
in Peacham. Vt., which town he left on 
becoming of age, and entered into the 
semce of Mr. Hough, in Concord. 
His was almost wholly a printing-office 
education, but he became a good 
scholar in the'. English language, and 
was the most correct compositor whose 

proofs I ever read. He rarely omitted 
or duplicated a word : but his surprise 
one day amounted to consternation — a 
dayy tooj in the cwninu' o£ which the 
Statesman went to press — when the 
discovery was made that he had left an 
"out" of somewhat colossal propor- 
tions : being all the toasts or sentiments 
at a, celebration of American Inde- 
pendence in Plymouth, written in the 
close chirography of the late N. P. 
Rogers, Esq. His general information 
was far above that of his associate, Mr. 
Tuttle, and the anecdote is not fictitious 
that a dispute arose between Hoit and 
Tuttle in regard to capitalizing a cer- 
tain word found in the foreign news 
then being put in type. The sentence 
was as follows : " The army of Bona- , 
parte is in jeopardy." Mr. Tuttle 
maintained that jeopardy was a place 
in Europe, and therefore should com- 
mence with a capital letter, while his 
associate took the negative of the 
question. Hon. Thomas W, Thomp- 
son being in the office, or passing in 
the street, was chosen arbiter, and of 
course decided for Mr. Hoit. Mr. 
Tuttle was a native of GolTstown, and 
became an apprentice to Mr. Hough. 
He was a worthy man, but without apt- 
itude for the successful pursuit of his 
chosen calling. He did not remain 
long in the printing business after the 
discontinuance of the Gazette, in 1818, 
but became otherwise employed ; 
finally becoming the lessee of a grist. 
mill, now known as Brown's, in Bow. 

During the interval between the dis- 
appearance of the " Concord Gazette" 
and the commencement of the "New 
Hampshire Statesman" — 181 8 to 1823 
— a sectarian paper, known as the 
" New Hampshire Observer," made its 
appearance. Its establishment was 
encouraged by Congregational clergy- 
men and laymen. George Hough was 
printer and publisher ; but, as seems" 
often to have been the case in news- 
paper undertakings of that and a pre-, 
ceding period, no arrangement of re- 
liable nature was made for regular liter- 
ary assistance. The scheme for an 
"Association of Gentlemen " was as 
much the plan as there was one at the 



start. Samuel Fletcher, then a young 
Concord lawyer, was to furnish "lead- 
ers," Mr. Hough to make selections, 
. no vmkms clergymen were to furnish 
articles upon such topics as came to 
mind. My father, being the only Con- 
gregational clergyman within six miles 
of the Observer establishment, was of 
course expected to perform regular and 
gratuitous service in its behalf. But 
Mr. Fletcher undoubtedly soon found 
that he could not prosper with two 
irons in the fire, as my father did, that 
he had parish work enough to occupy 
his time, while the out-of-town clergy- 
men gradually ceased to make contri- 
butions. The result was that good 
Mr. Hough was not long in ascertain- 
ing — as others had before him — that 
an "Association of Gentlemen " is not 
a newspaper support of reliable char- 
acter. The "Observer" was com- 
menced January, 1S19, and Mr. Hough 
contrived to sustain it until the autumn 
of 1822, when it was sold to Mr. John 
W. Shepard, a gentleman several years 
in trade at Gilmanton, his native place. 
He commenced with an office of his 
own, in a chamber over the old corner 
store, where the Masonic Temple now 
stands. Thence the office was trans- 
ferred to a building which stood oppo- 
site the State House yard, now placed 
back of the bakery of Mr. Bradbury, 
and occupied by Mr. Daniel A. Hill, 
for the repair of household furniture. 
Mr. Shepard made a change which 
was no improvement, as many did be- 
fore and have since. He dropped the 
word ''Observer" and thenceforth the 
paper was known as the "New Hamp- 
shire Repository." It had a life of 
trial and vicissitude, the stages of which 
'it is unnecessary to trace. It is suffi- 
cient to say that in the course of its 
existence it took a journey to Ports- 
mouth, and was published for a time 
by Messrs. Miller & Brewster, and even 
another to Portland, but eventually re- 
turned to the place of its birth. It 
was known through many of its last 
years as the " Congregational Journal," 
which title it bore at the time its sub- 
scription list was purchased of B. W. 
Sanborn, Esq., by the proprietors of 

"The Congregationalist." The life of 
the paper embraced a period of fortv- 
four years, and during its last years 
there was no lack of abiiitv 1:1 ils col- 
umns ; Rev. Plenty Wood and Rev. 
Benjamin P. Stone ' having, separately, 
had charge of it. It was published 
seventeen years by Mr. Sanborn ; but 
it having ceased to-be self-sustaining, 
that gentleman sold the subscription 
list, as stated above. 

There were jealousies between North- 
End Democrats and their down-town 
political brethren so long ago as fifty 
years. They at the North- End re- 
garded those beneath the shadow of 
of the State House as desirous of giv- 
ing law to the Democratic party. The 
last-named men were spoken of as 
" Parliament-corner politicians ;" aterrn 
which included Isaac Hill, William Low. 
Joseph Low, Richard Bartlett, Jacob 
B. Moore, and a few other active and 
influential men south of the present 
City Hall. Those North-End gentle- 
men of the same party who were be- 
coming, if not alienated from, at least 
jealous of their down-town brethren, 
and who immediately or more remote- 
ly partook of this feeling, were John 
George, Robert Davis, Samuel Coffin. 
Abiel Walker, Francis N. Fisbe, Charles 
Walker, Samuel Sparhawk, and other 
less conspicuous men. There were 
also Democrats in other portions of 
New Hampshire who had become 
jealous of the " Parliament corner " 
leaders, and this at first slight misunder- 
standing, or disaffection, culminated in 
the commencement of the journal 
known as the " New Hampshire States- 
man," January 6, 1823 ; a paper that 
is one of the very few which, growing 
out of a mere feud among local politi- 
cians, became a permanent establish- 
ment. Luther Roby, then in business 
at Amherst, moved to Concord, and 
became printer and publisher of the 
Statesman, and Amos A. Parker, then 
in the practice of law at Epping, was 
engaged to conduct it. 

To revert to the preceding year : In 
June, 1822, Hon. Samuel Dinsmoor, 
senior, of Keene, was .nominated for 
governor by the Democrats (orRepub- 



licans as they were then styled), in the 
legislature of that year ; candidates for 
governor and for congress being then 
nominated in June by members of the 
lesislature. In the following winter 
Hon. Levi Woodbury of Portsmouth, 
then one of the Justices of the Su- 
perior court, was nominated for gov- 
ernor by an irregularly constituted as- 
semblage of people in attendance upon 
a term of court in session at Portsmouth. 
The Patriot sustained the nomination 
of the legislative convention, and came 
out in strong rebuke of this procedure 
at Portsmouth, which really was an 
open revolt, by so many Democrats as 
participated in the nomination of Judge 
Woodbury, against the regular nomina- 
tion of the party the preceding June. 
But the Portsmouth transaction was 
countenanced, if not shaped, by the 
Plumers of Epping, Judge Butler of 
Deerfield, the North-End Democrats 
in Concord, and other equally conspic- 
uous and influential politicians in 
various parts of the .state. Although 
the Federal party had been disbanded, 
yet thousands who were members of it 
naturally sympathized with any proced- 
ure in conflict with the Patriot, and, 
with nearly one accord, went into the 
support of Judge Woodbury, who was 
chosen over Gen. Dinsmoor by 4026 

The Statesman of course advocated 
the election of Judge Woodbury : in- 
deed, I have supposed that when it 
was commenced it was undersotod that 
a rebellion was on foot against the 
nominee of the June convention. But 
the triumph of the North- End gentle- 
men was transitory, for one of the first 
important appointments by Governor 
Woodbury was that of Hon. Richard 
H. Ayer of Hooksett, to be sheriff of 
the newly formed county of Merrimack. 
This was a suitable selection — fitness 
being the standard — but one which 
created disappointment ; indeed, dis- 
pleasure throughout the ranks of those 
by whose votes Judge Woodbury was 
made governor. Mr. Ayer was broth- 
er-in-law of Mr. Hill, and exerted all 
his power to thwart the election of Gov. 
Woodbury, who, in fact, by this and 

other procedures, turned his back upon 
his supporters, and distinctly indicated 
to them that he should henceforth seek 
promotion in .uiother quarter. He was 
governor only one year. 

The generous promise of material 
aid to Mr. Roby, if he would com- 
mence the Statesman, having failed of 
fulfillment, and the chief motive for 
setting it on foot having been thwarted, 
at least for the time, and the zeal of 
its godfathers having become indiffer- 
ent to its fate, the paper commenced 
to languish, and would have ceased to 
be, but for an arrangement of which I 
proceed to make mention, finding it 
necessary to retrace my steps, and speak 
of another journal, which came into 
existence a year and four months after 
the birth of the Statesman. 

In May, 1824, the good George 
Hough being still alive, though far ad- 
vanced in years, and without much 
worldly substance, was induced by his 
fast friends to commence a paper, 
which bore the name of " Concord 
Register." The promises to Mr. 
Hough were made good at the start, 
and he was furnished with such means 
that he brought out a paper surpassed 
in typographical appearance by no 
other in the state. It was of large di- 
mensions for those times, printed with 
new materials, and arranged with the 
good taste and care for which Mr. 
Hough was distinguished. The Reg- 
ister was, in truth, a very comely publi- 
cation, filled with useful and enter- 
taining matter, and in its editorial col- 
umns there was no lack of ability. 
These columns were nominally filled 
by George Kimball, Esq., who had read 
law, but was for a time teacher in the 
public schools here. Pie was a native of 
New Hampshire, but had been a resi- 
dent of the island of Bermuda, where 
he married a lady who was said to be 
the owner of several slaves. As the 
Patriot disposed of the Concord Ga- 
zettee by styling it " the crow paper," 
so it put Mr. Kimball, of the Concord 
Register, in a disadvantageous position 
by uniformly alluding to hirn as " the 
Bermuda man." Mr. Kimball was a 
gentleman of intelligence ; a pleasant 



companion, of amiable disposition, 
good at telling a story or relating an 
anecdote, and a writer of fair ability. 
Bw* be had. like other men, his humil- 
ities. He was exceedingly indolent, a 
great snuff taker, and fond of exhila- 
rating and intoxicating liquors ; and it 
often came to pass that when publica- 
tion day was at hand there was a lack 
of supplies for the editorial columns. 
Then he was wont to resort to George 
Kent, Esq.. whose pen had been all 
along the chief instrument by which 
the Register was making its way in 
popular regard. 

But without' dwelling farther upon 
this portion of the topic. I proceed to 
say that in September, 1S26. the "New 
Hampshire Statesman" and the "Con- 
cord Register" were united, the full 
title of each being retained. The 
Statesman abandoned its North-End 
quarters, in a building that was the abode 
of the late Dr. Ezra Carter, and came 
down to the office of Mr. Hough, sit- 
uated upon ground now occupied by 
Phenix Block. The united paper was, 
however, not long printed by Mr. 
Hough, who had passed his seventy- 
fifth year ; for about the time of the 
consolidation here spoken of, Mr. 
Thomas G. Wells, who had been pub- 
lishing a paper entitled the " Amherst 
Herald," the subscription list of which, 
with the printing materials, were brought 
to Concord, — Mr. Wells having pur- 
chased an interest in the Statesman and 
Register. But being desirous of trying 
his fortune in a new and distant field, 
Mr. Wells sold his interest in the paper 
to Moses G. Atwood and Asa McFar- 
land, February, 1826, and within a few 
months sailed for Valpraiso. 

It here comes in order to speak of 
the rise of another paper. In 1826, 
John Quincy Adams being president of 
the United States by a congressional, 
not popular, election, and a strictly mi- 
nority president, it was very obvious 
that his re-election would be sharply 
contested, and that Gen. Andrew Jack- 
son — his most formidable competitor 
in the election of 1824 — would be 
brought forward again in 1828. It was 
also apparent, as early as 1826, that al- 

though Mr. Adams was the choice of 
New England, and a favorite of a large 
portion of the Democratic Republicans 
of New Hampshire, the Patriot, never- 
theless, which had in 1S24 sustained 
Wm. H. Crawford of Georgia, would 
support Gen. Jackson in rSzS. Among 
the Democratic supporters of Mr. 
Adams was a host of influential men, 
found in every portion of New Hamp- 
shire. To name a few of those in Con- 
cord is to indicate the character and 
position of Mr. Adams' supporters in 
this state. Jacob B. Moore was one of 
these. He was associated with Mr. 
Hill in the Patriot up to the year 
1 82 2. Richard Bartlett, secretary of 
state ; Joseph Low, adjutant and in- 
spector general ; Samuel Sparhawk. 
cashier of the " Upper Bank," so called, 
in distinction from the Lower Bank ; 
Gen. Robert Davis : and others, less 
prominent, but equally active politi- 
cians. The Statesman and Register 
was sustaining Mr. Adams, but that 
journal being regarded by the Adams 
Democrats as the representative of 
what remained of the Federal party, 
and in the interests of such men as 
William A. Kent, Stephen Ambrose, 
Abel Hutchins, Wm. Kent, Richard 
Bradley, Robert Ambrose, Benjamin 
Gale, Charles and George Hutchins, 
and other well-known men of Concord 
and elsewhere in New Hampshire, a 
new paper was, by the Democratic 
wing of the Adams party, regarded as 
necesssary. This desire came to ma- 
turity, and in September, 1S26, Jacob 
B. Moore, then carrying on the busi- 
ness of bookseller and printer, com- 
menced "The New Hampshire Jour- 
nal." The first number contained 'an 
account of the frightful and melancholy 
occurrence in the Notch of the White 
Hills, August 26, known as the destruc- 
tion of the Willey family. This nar- 
rative was from the pen of Mr. Moore, 
who, with Richard Bartlett, were upon an 
excursion to the mountains at the time 
of the awful deluge which fell upon 
those hills and valleys, and themselves 
narrowly escaped being swept into a 
swollen and raging torrent. 

Mr. Moore was a gentleman of un- 


7 1 

tiring industry, much ability as a writer, 
good executive capacity, well read in 
political history and general literature, 
and an enterprising man of business*; 
pushing with all his might such under- 
takings as he projected. Through the 
force of his own pen and that of others 
whom he enlisted in his service, and a 
thorough canvass of the state for sub- 
scribers, the Journal, early in 1S2S, had 
more than four thousand subscribers; 
a great circulation for that period, when 
every inland paper was printed upon a 
hand-press. Having just before — Feb- 
ruary, 1828 — embarked in the States- 
man, and being young and timid, I was 
fearful that our establishment would be 
wrecked and my investment of five 
hundred dollars go to the bottom. But 
when the presidential election of 1S2S 
had become a receding incident in 
public affairs, and the heat of the fiery 
campaign was succeeded by compara- 
tively calm weather, the Journal rapidly 
lessened in circulation. Mr. Moore, 
becoming weary of journalism, trans- 
ferred the establishment to Richard 

Bartlett, who, as secretary of state, had 
been superseded by Col. D. S. Palmer, 
his deputy in the office. Mr. Bartlett 
■■ ss pronounced one of that description 
of men who can do better writing for 
others than themselves. He had per- 
formed yeoman service while the 
Journal was in possession of Mr. 
Moore, but, when in his ewn custody, 
ruined his articles by putting too fine 
a point upon them. The paper con- 
tinued to decline — which it probably 
would into whose possession soever it 
had fallen ; and my fear, in -182.7, that 
the Statesman would be irreparably 
damaged by its vigorous competitor, 
then sweeping all before it. not only 
proved groundless, but entirely the re- 
verse, for in May, 1830, the Journal 
was united with the Statesman, and the 
consolidated paper took the title, " New 
Hampshire Statesman and State Jour- 
nal." Except for this arrangement, — 
perfected by leading men to save the 
feelings and property of Mr. Bartlett, 
— The Journal must have been discon- 
tinued for want of support. 



My friend, it does not seem that there should be 

Comparisons 'twist bond and bond: — I think 
Each plummet in the heart doth deeply sink. 

Each tie holy ill its own degree. 

And truth, like air. is full as it is free. 
"Why need we fear. as. leaning o'er the brink 
Of our own being, we yet long to drink 

In larger draughts of God's e [uality, 

Of kindly care for all: we can but see 
That He hath planned so infinitely well 

For every human heart, for you and me. 
That in the rapturous gladness that will swell 

The sweet, sweet future's music there will be 
Not one tone missing from the perfect spell. 




[Smitti's Decisions. Reports of the cases 
decided in the superior and supreme 
judicial courts of Xew Hampshire from 
1802 to 1S1G. with opinions in the circuit 

- and district courts of Xew Hampshire. 
with extracts from the treatise, on pro- 
hate law. etc.. by Chief Justice Smith. 
Selected, edited and annotated by his 
son. Ex-Judge Jeremiah Smith. Bos- 
ton : Published by Little. Brown & Co. 
From the press of John Wilson & Son. 

This volume is a mirror of the law 
of "the olden time," in its best estate. 
Chief Justice Smith was the pioneer in 
the field of jurisprudence in New Eng- 
land as Kent was in New York. 

Kent at thirty-four, in February, 
1798, became puisne Judge of the su- 
preme court of New York, and at forty- 
two, in July, 1806, its chief justice. 

Parsons at fifty-six, in July, 1806, 
was made chief justice of the supreme 
judicial court of Massachusetts. 

Smith, after serving four terms in 
congress, and as judge of probate in 
the county of Rockingham, was at for- 
ty-one, on Feb. 20, 1S01, made Judge 
of the circuit court of the United States 
for the district of New Hampshire ; and 
on May 17, 1802, chief justice of the 
highest court in this state. He held 
this position until 1809, when he was 
over-persuaded by certain of his politi- 
cal friends, among whom was Daniel 
Webster, to abandon it for that of gov- 
ernor, because the supposed interests 
of the federal party required the nomi- 
nation of its most available candidate. 

On July 12, 18 13, he again became 
chief justice, and held that place until 
June 29, 18 16, when he was swept from 
it by the political revolution of that 

Prior to the appointment of Judge 
Smith in 1802, the law in this state as a 
science had no existence. For this 
there are two principal reasons : 

1. Under the proprietary govern- 
ment of Mason, we had no law of our 

own, either statute or common. As 
late as 1660, Mason claimed that New 
Hampshire and Maine were governed 
by the law of the mother country. 
Portsmouth, Dover, Exeter and Hamp- 
ton were little principalities, and did 
substantially as they pleased. The 
province as such had no existence be- 
fore the union with Massachusetts, in 
1 64 1, nor until after the forced separa- 
tion in 1679. 

The first code of laws enacted in this 
province in 1679-1680 was in substance 
a re-enactment of the Mosaic code, 
was sent to the mother country for 
royal sanction, and was disallowed by 
the Privy Council as many others after- 
wards were. 

During the reign of James II. the 
laws were silent. A trinity of pro-con- 
suls ruled and robbed the people. In 
1692, seventy years after the settle- 
ment, we were entirely destitute of what 
is called written law. Many statutes 
were enacted after this time which nev- 
er received the sanction of the king and 

No laws were published until 1716, 
when an edition of sixty pages folio 
was published in Boston. In 1718, 
seventy-two pages were added, and in 
1 719, twenty-four pages more. After 
this, and before 172S, sixteen pages 
more were added, making in all a vol- 
ume of one hundred and seventy-two 
pages. There was no printing press in 
this province till 1756. An edition of 
the statutes was published here in 1 760, 
but discarded as not authentic, and a 
new and carefully printed edition was 
published in 1771. After the revolu- 
tion, the statutes were printed in folio 
till 1 789, when an octavo edition, con- 
taining the public and some of the pri- 
vate laws, was published by order of 
the legislature. The dissatisfaction of 
the public compelled the publication of 
anew and revised edition in 1792, 
which was followed by the edition of 


x 73 

1797, and afterwards by the more co- 
pious one of 1S05. 

The statute law when Judge Smith 
came to the bench was in a crude, cha- 
otic, and unsatisfactory condition, and 
the common law far worse. 

2. With notable exceptions, like the 
Livermores, which prove the rule, the 
bench was filled with broken-down 
ministers, lumbermen, bankrupt traders 
and cheap lawyers. From two to four 
of these judges as the quorum varied, 
attended each trial term, if they did 
not, as sometimes happened, forget the 
time ; and not unfrequently . they all 
charged the jury in the same cause, dif- 
fering oftentimes as much as the op- 
posing counsel. Chancellor Kent told 
the rest in describing the condition of 
things when he came to the bench in 
New York. u \Yhen I came to the 
bench," says the Chancellor, "there 
were no reports or state precedents. 
The opinions from the bench were de- 
livered ore tcnus. We had no law of 
our own, and nobody knew what it 
was. I first introduced a thorough ex- 
amination of cases and written opin- 

Smith was a strong man. It needed 
some iron hand to purge the Augean 
stable and he came. He was one of 
the best representatives of that indus- 
trious, tough, enduring, Scotch-Irish 
stock, who regarded it as recreation to 
work or fight from dawn till set of sun, 
and then to spend half the night in 
jest, and song, and story. At forty, 
Smith was a profound lawyer. He had 
absorbed the history of New England, 
and especially of this province and 
state, as a sponge does water. At this 
time he was the greatest master of pro- 
bate law in New England. No one 
since has equalled him ; and no one 
in this state has approached him ex- 
cept the late Charles H. Atherton. 
He prepared two large manuscript vol- 
umes on the subject. It cost a vast 
amount of time and labor and was an 
able work of great value. It was the 
reservoir from which Webster, Chief 
Justice Richardson, and others hardly 
less eminent, continually drew. Not- 
withstanding he was a busy man of af- 

fairs, he was top-heavy with law learn- 
ing when he came to the bench, and 
when he retired at the age of fifty-six, 
he had accomplished more than ougfet 
to be expected of those at seventy-five, 
who now stand in the fore-front of the 
profession with the aid of all the mod- 
ern appliances. How he did it, heav- 
en only knows ! 

Upon coming to the bench Judge 
Smith promptly introduced the practice 
of allowing a single judge to direct the 
course of trials, at the trial terms of re- 
serving cases and questions for the con- 
sideration of the whole court, and of 
preparing written opinions. 

This brought order out of chaos, but 
the labor was immense. Besides that 
expended on the great work of his life, 
the treatise on probate law, he presided 
at the trial terms, examined the cases, 
and prepared the written opinions in all 
cases heard in banc numbering from 
sixty to seventy yearly, and making 
fourteen manuscript volumes with a 
manuscript digest. 

Partisan madness prevented the pub- 
lication of these opinions when that 
publication was demanded by every ra- 
tional consideration of the public inter- 
est. Had they been published when 
they ought, thousands and tens of thou- 
sands of the money of individuals and 
the public would have been saved, for 
a very large proportion of the questions 
heard before Judge Smith have since 
been litigated at great expense. 

The volume before us is mainly a se- 
lection from the cases and the treatise 
referred to. We fear that the editor 
from an excess of caution, and from 
considerations which would naturally in- 
fluence a son, has given us less than he 

The cases reported are in the main, 
valuable. First, because they involve 
important questions of constitutional and 
municipal law, taxation, the construc- 
tion of statutes relating to deeds and 
other instruments, the rights, powers 
and duties of judges of probate, sheriffs 
and receiptors. They contain a very 
able discussion of the great questions of 
religious toleration, the right to tax 
clergymen, and the history of proprie- 



taries and town corporations not to be 
found elsewhere in so compact a form. 
Secondly, the principles underlying 
these decisions have been free, \ . ■;.,.- 
consiaered in a variety of forms by 
many of the American courts as well as 
our own. Thirdly, the compiler hkn- 
self, late one of the ablest and clearest 
headed members of our supreme court, 
has, by the notes which he has append- 
ed to these cases, given the profession 
in a compact form a concordance of 
the decisions here and elsewhere, 
wherever the same or similar questions 
have been considered. These notes 
show great care and are exceedingly 

We note the following as cases of in- 
terest : Muzzy v. the Assessors of Am- 
herst, N. PL, 1-3S. 

This was the pioneer decision here 
in favor of religious toleration. A ma- 
jority of the court, YVingate, J., dissent- 
ing, held that Presbyterians and Con- 
gregationalists were not the same re- 
ligious sect, &c, within the meaning of 
the constitution. Before Smith was ap- 
pointed, the court had decided that 
Universalists were of the same "persua- 
sion, sect, or denomination." as Con- 
gregationalists, and could be taxed for 
the support of settled ministers of the 
Orthodox church. This decision was 
affirmed in Henderson v. Erskine, 
Cheshire, Oct. term, 1802, by Judges 
Farrar and Livermore. Smith took no 
part in this decision, though he seem- 
ingly acquiesced in it as the settled 
law of the state. But though a Unita- 
rian himself, when it came to the ques- 
tion whether the Presbyterians must pay 
tribute in this way to the Congregation- 
alists he stood up stoutly for the inde- 
pendence of the church of Scotland, to 
which his kith and kin belonged. 

In Kidder v. the Assessors of Dun- 
stable, 155, Cheshire, April term, 1^07, 
the case of Kelly v. the Selectmen of 
Warner is cited, but without any at- 
tempt to summarize the history of that 
once famous case, nor does the chief 
justice seem to have understood what 
the facts really were. 

The Rev. William Kelly was born at 
Newbury, Massachusetts, October 30, 

1 744, graduated at Harvard, in 1767, 
and was ordained at what is now War- 
ner. X. H.. February 5, 1772, where he 
iv^ned -iil j . " -_ death-, May 10. 1S13. 
Warner, at the time of the ordination, 
was so thinly inhabited, that after the 
council had convened it was rumored 
among the people that there were not 
enough professors of religion in town to 
form a church, and therefore the ordi- 
nation must fall through. In this 
emergency an old Dutch hunter, who 
had lately moved into town from New 
York, anxious to help the council out 
of their supposed dilemma, sent them 
word that rather than not have them 
proceed he would join the church 
himself, but if they could get along 
without him he would rather not. The 
council went on without his assistance. 
Kelly received, by way of settlement, 
$100. with an annual salary of ,£40, to 
be increased till it should equal ^£60 
per annum, and twenty cords of wood. 
About 1792, Kelly found such inroads 
made upon his society as to render his 
support burdensome to his friends, and 
thereupon gave up his contract, and 
afterwards was repeatedly refused a dis- 
mission. Soon after this an unfriendly 
board of selectmen taxed his property, 
and collected the tax by distress. Kel- 
ly brought suit against the selectmen 
which the town defended, and at the 
May term, 1 79S, the court decided that 
the property of a settled minister of the 
gospel, under his own management, 
was exempt from taxation. On March 
11, 1 So 1, after he had won this cause, 
Kelly was dismissed by a council called 
at his own request. 

Fisher v. Steward, 60, is a Claremont 
case. The court held that one who 
finds a swarm of bees in a tree on an- 
other's land, marks the tree, and noti- 
fies the land-owner, has no right to the 
honey. This case shows the strength 
of traditionary law. Many people be- 
lieve to this day that the contrary is 
true because the tradition has come 
down to them on the stream of genera- 
tions as an heir-loom. 

In Melven v. Darling, 74, it was held 
that an unsatisfied judgment against a 
trustee in foreign attachment for the 



amount of a debt secured by a mort- 
gage, is a bur to a suit afterwards 
brought by the principal defendant up- 
on the mortgage against the tra - ( '..-'\ 
The dicta in this state upon this point 
have been very conflicting and it must 
be a wise man who knows what the law is. 
Morey v. Orford Bridge. 91, contains 
a valuable discussion of the constitu- 
tional question as to whether a grant of 
a ferry and the like is a contract which 
the constitution of the United States 
prohibits the states from impairing. 
This decision was made six years be- 

fore the opinion was 



Justice Marshall, in Fletcher v. Peck. 
Judge Smith held that the grant of a 
ferry is against common right and must 
therefore be construed strictly. This 
doctrine was affirmed in the supreme 
court of the United States in the 
Charles River "Bridge case, contrary to 
the opinions of Marshall and Story. 
Judge Smith also held that a ferry and 
a bridge, though they serve the same 
end, are things totally distinct in their 
nature ; that a grant of a ferry does not 
prohibit persons from crossing or ena- 
bling others to cross in any other way ; 
and that the grant of a ferry would not 
infringe the grant of a bridge. 

In Frost v. Brown, 113, it was held 
that where a minor had contracted for 
his own sen-ices, and his employer had 
agreed to pay him therefor, his earn- 
ings could not be attached on trustee 
process by a creditor of his father. Ig- 
norant of its existence, the legislature 
many years afterwards, re-enacted this 

In the case of St. John's Church at 
Portsmouth, 178, it was held that the 
exercise of corporate privileges for up- 
wards of a century, recognition in an- 
cient records and papers, and in acts 
of the legislature, were evidence of due 

In Currier v. Basset, 191, it was held 
that towns may settle disputed lines so 
far as respects jurisdiction. 

In the case of Flanders v. Herbert, 
205, it was held that a writ of attach- 
ment, without a declaration, is not a 
writ, and that no officer could justify- 
under it. 

In Doe v.. Morrell, 255, it was held 
unlawful for one tenant in common of 
a house, to make partition with a saw. 

Yv*@4*ad 1 vlorc heard fan eccentric 
lawyer in Vermont, who summarily dis- 
solved the firm of which he was a mem- 
ber, by sawing his partner's name off 
their common shingle. 

In Cornish e\ Kenrick, 270, the his- 
tory of the origin of proprietary and 
town governments is summarized. An 
examination of the reports of the su- 
preme court of the United States and 
of the states, shows that nobody out- 
side of New England, and compara- 
tively few within it, ever understood 

The opinion in Boynton v. Emerson, 
298, was the foundation of the magnifi- 
cent argument of Parker Noyes which 
carried the court with him in the noted 
case of Weld v. Hadley, 1 N. H., 295, 
in which it was held that a tender of 
specific articles, unaccepted, vested the 
property in the chattels in the person 
making the tender. 

In Hodgdon v. Robinson, 320, it 
was held that where an execution is ex- 
tended upon two tracts of land, it is 
not necessary that the same persons 
should be appraisers on both tracts. 

Thompson v. Bennet, 327, contains 
a masterly opinion by the chief justice 
that a deed attested by only one wit- 
ness is inoperative. This decision was 
afterwards disregarded by the majority 
of the superior court, and from that 
time to this confusion has reigned. The 
decision in French v. French, 2 N. H., 
234, was as bold an act of judicial usur- 
pation as that in Taltarum's case. 

The editor makes an ingenious effort 
to reconcile the decisions in Hastings 
v. Cutler, 24 N. H., 481, and in Bar- 
ker v. Bean, 25 N. H., 412, and we 
presume would reckon Gooding v. Ri- 
ley, 50 N. H., 400, as in harmony with 
Barker v. Bean. It would seem impos- 
sible to any one who knew the real 
facts to reconcile these two cases. The 
truth is that when Hasting v. Cutler 
and Barker v. Bean were decided, one 
judge as a rule knew little about the 
opinions of any other judge. The 
cases were divided among the judges. 

1 7 6 


Each one wrote the opinions in the 
cases assigned to him, and to use the 
pointed language of Judge Perley, 
"took the- K^ponsibilitv of it." The 
judges who in form decided these two 
cases, never looked far enough to see 
that they had made two antagonistic 
and irreconcilable decisions ; and Good- 
ing v. Riley has a history of its own. 

In Chesterfield v. Hart, 350. it was 
held that an infant of sufficient proper- 
ty, was liable under the pauper statutes 
for the support of her grandmother. 

In Porter v. Tarlton, 372, it was held 
that a sheriff who delivered attached 
goods to a receiptor, did so at his . own 
risk, unless the taking of the receipt 
was directed or ratified by the creditor. 
This was undoubtedly the ancient law 
in this state. It has also been so held 
in other jurisdictions. The modern 
doctrine in this state that a sheriff was 
bound to accept a receiptor was the re- 
sult of judicial legislation. Whether it 
was rational or not, is one thing ; 
whether it was the law or not, another. 
It is obvious that a receipt is a con- 
tract. Like other contracts it should 
receive a rational interpretation. To 
meet the supposed equities of particu- 
lar cases, the courts have warped such 
contracts, and adopted abortive views 
of them, and in order to support refine- 
ments without reason, and distinctions 
without sense, they have been com- 
pelled to invent a history which they 

ought to have known never existed. 
Not a few of these contradictory de- 
cisions, owe their existence to the fact 
that the $.«4§ea wete nor awase of the 
decisions which had been previously 
made upon the same point. As illus- 
trations, Phelps v. Gilchrist, 2S N. H., 
266; and Sanborn v. Buswell, 51 N. 
H., 573, are in point as respects Rem- 
ick v. Atkinson, 1 1 N. H., 256. In 
their attempts to reach justice, our court, 
in the matter of receipts, and the su- 
preme court of the United States, in the 
bond and tax cases, have created an 
anomalous class of contracts and made 
a deformity ofthe law so that it now de- 
pends upon arbitrary precedents in- 
stead of legal principles. 

In Bryant v. Ela, 396, the court held 
in effect, that where no personal service 
is had upon the defendant, the court 
had no jurisdiction over him for any 
other purpose than as affects the prop- 
erty attached : that such suits were pro- 
ceedings in rem ; that they were re- 
stricted in their scope to the property 
attached ; and that the attachment was 
the necessary foundation for any fur- 
ther proceedings. This decision re- 
ceives strong support from a recent de- 
cision of the supreme court of the 
United States, that in those states where 
a sale is allowed instead of an attach- 
ment, no jurisdiction can be acquired 
without personal service. 



Good luck is only a flighty thing. 
And has been from the beginning; 
You may hunt for her all the world round 
And yet the creature may not be found. 

Throw yourself on the dewy grass. 
And sing your sougs to the riekle lass; 
Quickly, perhaps, from out the blue skies, 
She may descend to sooth your sighs. 

Then you must seize and hold her close. 
But do not make your complaints verbose; 
Though she so long has kept you waiting, 
Mayhap a new flight she is meditating. 

— Lucia Moses. 





Many erroneous ideas prevail con- 
cerning congress, among those not 
familiar with its interior workings. The 
newspaper, that omnipresent vehicle of 
modem intelligence, fails to delineate 
all the peculiar phases of our American 
parliament. Even the^ Congressional 
Record itself, which is supposed to be 
an exact official record of proceedings, 
is also made to convey a harmless de- 
ception by its burden of long-winded 
speeches that were never delivered. 
Take a case in point. The "Record" 
of the forty-fifth congress, second ses- 
sion, contains many very able speeches 
upon American finance, purporting to 
be the extemporaneous eloquence of 
approval, disapproval, or indignation 
generated by the president's veto of 
the silver bill. The actual delivery of 
those speeches would have occupied 
one or more of the entire daily sessions 
of the house. As it was, the bill was 
passed in both branches of congress, 
and became a law in spite of the pres- 
ident's veto in less than four hours af- 
ter it left the White House, all debate 
being cut off in the house by Mr. 
Alexander H. Stephens' demand for the 
previous question. "Leave to print" is 
the mysterious process by which this 
feat of parliamentary legerdemain is 
accomplished. The advantages of the 
plan are obvious. It affords time for 
preparation, relieves the listeners and 
avoids the pangs of delivery. It also 
conveys to the honorable member's 
constituents the pleasing delusion, that, 
in times of great public emergency, the 
honorable member aforesaid is at his post, 
flinging his eloquence into the congres- 
sional arena, and fiercely gesticulating 
to the admiring crowds who listen with 
breathless attention to his impassioned 
oratory. The local newspaper takes 
up the theme, and with the Congres- 

sional Record for a breastwork, marks 
out a campaign, throws up the lines of 
defense, and challenges the political 
enemy to prove that the failure to re- 
elect the author of so much extempo- 
raneous ( ?) eloquence would not be 
a national calamity, and perhaps imperil 
the very existence of the government 

Another safety valve for the escape 
of congressional eloquence when it 
reaches the danger line, is the Saturday 
session, and an occasional evening ses- 
sion "for debate only." At these mo- 
mentous gatherings the audience upon 
the floor of the house numbers from 
three to twenty-five, the latter, in con- 
gressional parlance, being considered 
"a good house." The best speakers 
on either side never resort to this 
method of firing the hearts of their 
constituents, for it is considered a 
great waste of the raw material. Banks, 
Butler, Garfield Hale, Frye, Kelley, 
Cox, Blackburn, Tucker, Gibson, Cly- 
mer, and McMahon, are never found 
talking to empty benches and galleries, 
but carefully husband their resources 
for the "field days" that seldom come 
unannounced. A judicious expendi- 
ture of printer's ink generally conveys 
to an anxious and expectant public the 
intelligence that "something is up" in 
the house at the proper time before 
that "something" occurs. There are 
exceptions to this, as, for instance, 
when some unguarded "hit" brings on 
a running debate, in which the heavy 
artillery are compelled to take the field, 
even if not rewarded by the smiles and 
plaudits of "fair women and brave 
men" in the gallery. The few men 
who command the attention of the 
house, or the country, are alternately 
praised and abused by the press, and 
their names perpetually paraded before 


the people. The "evening session" 
member drops into obscurity after the 
customary "notice" of his effort bv the 
local newspaper, and his popaterhy 
with such of his constituents as judge 
congressmen by their speeches only, is 
measured by the number of printed 
copies sent into his district. 

Those who estimate the work of con- 
gress by the speech-making, or the pro- 
ceedings in open session, fail to do that 
honorable body common justice. The 
real work in both branches is done in 
the committee-rooms. Here is where 
the multitude of petitions are sent, pa- 
pers referred, arguments offered, wit- 
nesses examined, and all the details of 
legislation perfected. The "sacred 
right of petition" is being indulged in 
to an extent never before known in the 
history of American legislation, and it 
adds heavily to the burdens of com- 
mittees who are obliged to take cogni- 
zance of their contents. During the 
first five months of the forty-fifth con- 
gress, the number of petitions referred, 
daily, to the appropriate committees 
varied* from one hundred to three 
hundred, the bulk of which went to the 
committee of ways and means, com- 
merce, and invalid pensions. The 
humblest citizen in the obscurest ham- 
let in the land may petition congress 
for a redress of greivances, payment for 
services rendered, or for damages in- 
flicted upon his barnyard fence during 
our "late unpleasantness," and rest as- 
sured that his petition will be as care- 
fully introduced, referred, indexed, 
filed, and considered as if it were a mat- 
ter of the gravest national importance. 
During the five months previously re- 
ferred to, over five thousand bills were 
introduced in the house alone, nearly 
all of which were read and referred to 
committees. A few- pass, under a sus- 
pension of the rules, but by far the 
larger portion are carefully considered 
in committee before being reported to 
the house. The house meets at noon, 
daily, and usually adjourns before five 
o'clock ; but the committee-man's work, 
like a woman's, is ?iever done. The 
ablest men on all the leading commit- 
tees work more hours, and tax their 

physical endurance and mental power-; 
to a greater degree than they would if 
at home in their counting-rooms or 
cilices. The ability of the practical 
legislator is tested more in the commit- 
tee room than upon the floor of the 
house, for it has been found vx~oz\ many 
noted occasions' that fine oratory and 
practical hard work are not closely re- 
lated. Both are essential, and neither 
can well be dispensed with, particular- 
ly the hard work. There are many men 
in congress who seldom make a speech, 
whose names are scacely ever seen in 
the papers outside of their own spates, 
who are comparative strangers xo the 
readers of the Record, whose good 
judgment and practical sound sense has 
great influence in shaping legislation 
and' enacting good laws. The daily 
sessions then, instead of being a true 
exponent of the work being done by 
our law-makers, are merely for the pur- 
pose of comparing notes, supplying 
omissions, perfecting details, or smooth- 
ing up work roughed out by the differ- 
ent committees. The "field days" are 
elaborately reported and highly colored 
by correspondents whose fertile imagi- 
nations are equal to any emergency ; 
but the business days and weeks when 
no "oratory" is heard or expect e 3, are 
but little noticed either in Washington or 
the country at large. These are the days 
and weeks when the clear-headed and 
far-seeing practical men of business lay 
aside all nonsense and political bun- 
combe, and use their best judgment in 
devising ways and means whereby our 
good uncle, whose surname is Samuel, 
is enabled to provide for the support of 
his large and growing family, and to 
pay his honest debts. The appropria- 
tion bills are drawn with very great care 
and require many weeks of the severest 
mental labor to perfect them. To pro- 
vide for the support of even* branch of 
the government in all its details is the 
task allotted to the committee on ap- 
propriations. The army and navy, the 
consular and diplomatic, the river and 
harbor, the pension, the post-ornce, the 
Indian, the legislative, the deficiency, 
and the sundry civil are the principal ap- 
propriation bills that emanate from this 


committee. Four or five of the eleven 
will contain from fifty to one hundred 
and ten printed pages each, document 
size, which tact is sufficient to convey 
the idea that a position on the appro- 
priation committee, at least, is no sine- 
cure. Indeed the amount of work 
performed by the average congressman 
is much greater than is popularly sup- 
posed. The work in committee, the 
daily attendance at the regular sessions, 
the calls at the departments on official 
business, the immense private corres- 
pondence from clamorous constituents 
who want a book, or a speech, or an 
office, all add to the cares and respon- 
sibilities of the honorable M. C. Then 
if his family, if he has one, is desirous 
of cutting a dash in "Washington so- 
ciety," the poor man is "toted" around 
to all the balls, pound-parties, lunches 
and "receptions" given by the notables 
from Lord A down to Esquire Z, and 
filled up with frozen cream, boiling 
coffee, terrapin soup, and iced cham- 
pagne. He must call on all the offi- 
cials, high and low, stand the "crush" 
at the president's reception, and fur- 
nish the female interviewer the full par- 
ticulars concerning the style and cost 
of his wife's wardrobe. 

The preparation of speeches, if he 
be given to speech-making, requires 
much care and time on the part of the 
congressman who aspires to renown in 
that direction. On all possible subjects 
connected with legislation the field has 
been thoroughly gleaned many times 
over. International and constitutional 
law, diplomacy, the tariff, internal im- 
provements, and every conceivable sub- 
ject upon which any considerable num- 
ber of citizens are supposed to take the 
slightest interest, has been a matter of 
public discussion in the two houses of 
congress ever since their existence. It 
is not expected, therefore, that, upon 
general topics, the average member 
will be able to say anything remarkably 
new, or strikingly original. He will be 
fortunate indeed if somebody does not 
hop up and point him to the volume, 
page, column, and paragraph in the 
Record or Globe, of ten, twenty, or 
forty years ago, where almost his exact 

language may be found. This strange 
condition of affairs may be accounted 
for by the fact that upon certain spe- 
cific questions of a public n.uure, the 
reference to standard works in the con- 
gressional libraries are the only reliable 
data upon which to build the super- 
structure of a speech. It is not to be 
wondered at, then, that hundreds of 
men, searching for the same facts upon 
the same subject, in the same books, 
should frequently stumble upon the 
same paragraph in elucidating their 
views. Then, again, they must rely on 
the knowledge and judgment of the li- 
brarian, who hunts up the "references'" 
on a given subject. Without the libra- 
rian and his assistants, any man would 
be as helpless as a ship at sea without 
a rudder. The various libraries in the 
capitol contain a half-a-million volumes, 
which is a pile of books the size of 
which no one would form any adequate 
idea, who has not seen them. Amid 
the miles of shelving, and the hundreds 
of alcoves, one might hunt a year for 
a certain book and not be able to find 
it. The librarian, however, with his 
wonderful system of indexing, and his 
vast practical knowledge, gained only by 
years and years of experience, will soon 
find whatever is needed. Let a mem- 
ber make known his desire to find the 
decision of a county, state or supreme 
court upon any case, the opinion of 
any noted jurist upon any question of 
law, the cost of keeping a soldier in 
1840, the price of army blankets in 
1850, the revenue derived from the 
importation of quinine in i860, the 
number of tons of pig-iron produced 
in Pennsylvania ; in short, if he wants 
any particular information upon any 
given snbject, the old "book worms" 
in the libraries can produce it for him 
in an incredibly short space of time. 
There is a man in the house library 
who knows it so well that he is regarded 
as a permanent fixture. He has been 
discharged once or twice on account oi 
political changes, but soon reinstated. 
They can't do without him. He has 
probably contributed indirectly, more 
pages to the Congressional Record, dur- 
ing the last dozen years, than any man 



living. He is not an M. C. and is not 
much seen upon the tloor, but there 
would be some fearful gaps in a good 
many cor Sessional speeches if his 
work were blotted out. He is one of 
the "book worms" of the house libra- 
ry, belongs to the noble family of 
Smiths, and, horrible to think of (to 
some), is an American citizen of Afri- 
can descent. 

Under the circumstances herein al- 
luded to, the charge of plagiarism, to 
which the honorable member may have 

laid himself liable, should be lightly 
treated and generously overlooked. It 
is well nigh impossible to get up an 
" origin lP speech m eontgress upon 
the standard legislative subjects, and 
the few attempts to do so are not well 
calculated to stimulate enterprise in 
that direction. 

The purpose of this article is not to 
tear away too much of the veil that 
surrounds our lawgivers, but just enough 
to dispel some of the harmless illusions 
that exist in the public mind. 




" You are very tired tonight, are you 
not, Margie? Your work has been 
harder than usual today, I know by 
your (lushed cheek and heavy eyes. 
Oh my child ! how I wish I might take 
a portion of your heavy burden upon 
myself." Mrs. Benson raised herself 
from the lounge where she had been 
reclining and gently drew her daughter 
to her side. It was a poor room, but 
neat as wax. The uncovered floor was 
white and clean. The few chairs and 
small table, and well-worn lounge were 
neatly dusted. The window curtain 
which shaded the one small window 
was snowy white ; but over all the signs 
of extreme poverty cast a shadow that 
told of toilsome days and weary nights. 
Mrs. Benson was a confirmed invalid. 
The thin cheeks, with their hectic flush, 
told that death was very near her. Her 
large brown eyes were filled with un- 
shed tears as she tenderly drew her 
daughter to her side. Margie Benson 
laid her head for a moment upon her 
mother's shoulder, with a low sigh, then 
she lifted it, and the dark brown eyes 
rested lovingly upon the face so dear 
to her, as she replied : " No, mother, 
my work has not been more tiresome 
than usual \ but our wages have been 
lowered. Mr. Brown says he cannot 
afford to pay as much as he has been 

paying, and I don't know how we shall 
live. If I could find something else to 
do I would leave the mill, but that I 
cannot do, I suppose. If father would 
not drink 1" This last, with a bitter 
sob, as the brown head sank down 
again to its resting place. " If father 
would not drink!" How many hun- 
dreds, aye thousands of poor girls 
have uttered that self-same cry, wrung 
from their inmost hearts. The shame 
and misery, the anxious days and fear- 
ful nights of a drunkard's family, are 
known only to themselves. For a mo- 
ment Mrs. Benson made no reply. It 
was not often that Margie gave way to 
her feelings like this, but tonight she 
was so heart-sick and discouraged that 
she gave up to the sorrow that cast a 
blight upon her young life. Compelled 
oftimes to furnish her father with 
means to procure his potations, her 
very soul shrank from the injustice of 
her unnatural parent. Gently Mrs. 
Benson stroked the curling hair away 
from her daughter's flushed face ere 
she replied. Then she said softly : 
"Margie, where has your courage 
gone ? If you lose that, what will be- 
come of us?" "Oh, my mother, for- 
give me. I do wrong to worry you 
like this." She paused for a moment, 
and then said : " I shall not give him 
any more money. I do not think he 


will beat me and I do not mind his 
harsh words — much. After all, it is not 
so b;.d as it might; be. mother." said 
she, trying to speak cheerfully, as she 
arose from her seat and bustled about 
to prepare her frugal supper. Twenty 
minutes later she assisted her mother 
to a seat at the table, and altho' she 
pressed the invalid to partake of the 
toast she had prepared for her, she ate 
but little herself. Her heart beat rap- 
idly at even* footstep near the door, 
for she well knew that if her father re- 
turned at all that night, he would re- 
turn intoxicated, as she had herself 
seen him reeling into a drinking saloon 
when on her way home from the fac- 
tory. She felt the disgrace keenly, this 
young girl whose thoughts and aspira- 
tions were so much above the sphere 
in which circumstances placed her. 
Her only sister, Clara, had married, two 
years before, a well-to-do farmer, re- 
siding in Vermont, and she had been 
very kind to the mother and sister in 
their bitter sorrows, often sending them 
money and cheering words, which came 
like rays of sunlight into the drunkard's 
home. Margie sat thinking sadly of 
their poverty, her mother's ill-health 
and her father's intemperance, until 
Mrs. Benson slowly arose from the 
table, then she hastily sprang forward 
and assisted her to a seat near the fire, 
and bustling about, soon had the room 
restored to its usual order. "Mother, 
had you not better retire ? It is getting 
quite cool here and the coal is nearly 
gone. You will be more comfortable 
in bed. I will throw my shawl over 
my shoulders and wait up for father. I 
fear he will be late tonight." Mrs. 
Benson raised her eyes to her daugh- 
ter's face and said sadly : "Yes, Mar- 
gie, I will do as you wish. I cannot 
see him in his degredation tonight, I 
am not equal to it. Rest here on the 
lounge until he comes. If you refuse 
him money he will pawn this miserable 
furniture, and we shall have nothing. 
Oh, Margie, what a curse rum is. It 
has changed your father from a noble 
man to a miserable wretch, as it has 
done many others. What will become 
of you, my poor child, when I am 

gone?" Slowly and feebly she arose, 
and, leaning on her daughter,' she 
sought her own room. "'Mother seems 
more fieebie fc©fl»ght than e\er before," 
said Margie to herself, as at length she 
stood alone in the little kitchen. " She 
will soon be out of this grief and 
trouble, while I must live on, doubly 
wretched without her dear presence. 
Oh, surely my lot is very hard," she 
moaned, as extinguishing the lamp, she 
drew aside the window curtain and 
knelt beside the window, thus beginning 
her long watch. Night after night she 
had knelt there, watching for her father, 
that she might be ready to open the 
door for him and keep him quiet if pos- 
sible. Usually he was stupid and sul- 
len and easily led, but if he was thirst- 
ing for liquor, and had no money to 
obtain it, he would curse and swear at 
his poor wife and wretched daughter 
until he got what little money they had, 
then he would leave them, and spend 
the money thus obtained at some of 
the many filthy dens which infested the 
city. The fire died entirely out, in the 
little stove, and at length Margie arose 
shivering from the window, and wrap- 
ping a shawl around her, threw herself 
upon the lounge, dropping into a light 
slumber which lasted until the little 
clock on the mantel struck two* " He 
will not come home tonight. Doubtless 
he has got into the station house again. 
I am sorry I didn't try to induce him 
to come home with me, but how could 
I enter that vile, filthy place? And, 
beside, mother has strictly forbidden it, 
too. Oh, the shame of being a drunk- 
ard's daughter," said Margie, as she 
arose, and shivering with cold, stole 
noiselessly into her mother's room, and 
without disrobing lay down beside the 
invalid, whose regular breathing told 
Margie that her mother, at least, was 
resting peacefully, forgetting in sleep 
her many sorrows. Margie was up 
long before day, and had prepared 'the 
scanty breakfast for her mother and 
herself. It was snowing rapidly, the 
flakes falling thicker and faster as the 
morning deepened. At half-past six 
Margie stood ready to depart for her 
day's labor, everything that her mother 



would need being placed close at hand, 
she at length bade her goodbye, and 

hastened awa- 

After her daughter' 

time before the fire. Anon it began to 
grow light, and then she amused her- 
self by watching the flakes of snow as 
they fell faster and faster upon the 
window ledge. The days were very 
long to the poor woman, especially 
those which found her unable to busy 
herself with some light needle work 
with which she essayed to earn a little 
money, much against Margie's wishes. 
Her thoughts this morning had some- 
how gone back into the past — a past 
that seemed like heaven when com- 
pared to the misery of the present. 
Could it be that she was the daughter 
of wealthy parents, carefully guarded 
from every want, idolized as only daugh- 
ters often are ? Ah. well ! that was 
ended. She had chosen her own lot in 
life and the consequences, let them be 
what they would, must be borne. She 
knew that all trouble would soon end 
for her, but the thought of the dear 
ones she must leave behind, especially 
Margie, filled her already aching heart 
with keenest anguish. Suddenly there 
came a knock upon the outer door, and 
in answer to her low " come in," the 
door was thrown open, and a gentle- 
man, well wrapped up in a heavy coat 
and muffler, his fur cap drawn down 
over his face, entered the room. 

Throwing off his wet outer garments, 
and tossing them into one corner of the 
room, he turned toward Mrs. Benson, 
who sat watching him in surprise. 
" Don't you know me, Margaret?" The 
rich mellow tones of the gentleman's 
voice fell upon Mrs. Benson's ear like 
strains of half forgotten music, while 
one glance into the dark brown eyes, 
which looked sadly into her own, and 
were so strangely like her own, told 
her that' her only brother stood before 
her. With a low cry of intense joy 
she half rose to her feet, sinking back 
again and holding out both hands, 
while the single word, "brother !" fell 
from her pale lips. "My sister, my 
poor, wronged sister !" said the gentle- 
man, as he clasped the fragile form 

close to his bosom, and mingled his 
tears with her own. "William, my 
brother ! Oh ! it must be a dream, it 
cannot be true that we meet again, 
meet when I most need your strong 
arm to lean upon," she murmured, 
drawing away from him and gazing 
eagerly into the handsome face of 
the gentleman, who was regarding 
her with joy and sorrow both depicted 
on his noble countenance. "Thank 
God ! I have found you at last," 
said he, reverently. "We will never 
part again until death parts us. Poor 
sister, that I should find you thus. 
What a change, Margaret ! I can hard- 
ly believe my own eyes," and burying 
his face in his hands, he groaned aloud. 
Then he started up and glanced around 
the miserable room, strode to the little 
bedroom where the wretched pallet, 
which served as a bed for his poor 
sister, met his eye ; then he burst forth 
angrily, fiercely. "And so this is what 
that rascal of a Tom Benson has 
brought you to. He was never half 
good enough for you in his best days. 
Alas ! poor, stern, unyielding father was 
right, when he said you had better been 
laid away in your grave than to have 
become the wife of such a man. It 
proved to be the hovel instead of the 
palace, Margaret." Over the pale, thin 
face of the invalid the blood rushed in 
a crimson wave, and receding, left her 
paler than before, while her thoughts 
flew back to a scene far different from 
this. The large, magnificent drawing- 
room and all the insignia of wealth sur- 
rounding them — herself and this self- 
same brother, standing side by side — 
and in answer to the words, " Margaret, 
he is not good enough for you, even if 
he were your equal in other respects, 
what will you do, reared as you have 
been, as the wife of a man compara- 
tively poor?" She had made answer: 
" I love him, William, and could be 
happier with him in a hovel than with 
any one else in a palace." Young and 
impulsive, she believed for the time 
being that she spoke the truth ; expe- 
rience, however, had taught her a bit- 
ter lesson. Experience is a hard teach- 
er, but a most thorough one. I won- 



der if anyone in the world ever did, or 
ever will live just such a life as he or 
she fondly hoped and expected to live. 
For example, one sees up©« a ross* 
bush, a fair, perfect rose, and essays to 
pluck it, when lo ! at a touch the leaves 
fall out and lay upon the ground be- 
neath, or if perchance allowed to gather 
it in its beauty, there are thorns hidden 
from sight that were little thought of. 
Just so with many — I had nearly said 
most lives. The future seems "bright 
with promise," but often, too often, 
we find that " distance lends enchant- 
ment to the view." But to return to 
my story. " Not much better than a 
hovel, William," she said, the tears 
coming afresh to her eyes. "But, in- 
deed, I never regretted my marriage 
until he took to drink." Forgive me, 
sister, I was wrong to speak as I did, 
but the surprise and sorrow of finding 
you like this must be my excuse. How 
many children have you?" "Two, 
living. My Willie died when only two 
years of age. I thought it hard to part 
with him then, but I am so glad now 
that he was spared this misery and his 
father's wretched example. Clara, my 
eldest daughter, is married. Margie is 
at work in the factory, and it is to her 
that I look for what few comforts I 
have. Ah, brother ! my life is not 
much like the one I knew when I was 
Margaret Roden. When father disin- 
herited me, I thought my heart would 
break, at first, for I missed you all so 
much ; but you were kind to me, and 
my home, tho' humble, was neat and 
comfortable, and I had all the real 
necessaries of life. That was twenty 
years ago, brother, and for ten years, 
all went well. We had two lovely 
daughters, and when our little Willie 
was born, we thought our cup of hap- 
piness nearly full, especially as Tom 
was succeeding very well in business. 
When only two years old, our lovely 
boy was taken from us, and soon after 
we lost about five thousand dollars at 
one time, and two thousand more at 
another, nearly all we had. I never 
blamed Tom for that, but with all the 
trouble, he got discouraged, took to 
drinking, and so things have gone from 

bad to worse. I have lost my health, 
and the end for me is not far distant. 
And now, after all these years, why are 
you here?" She paused, exhausted, 
and leaned her head upon her tiasped 
hands. " Let me help you to the 
louuge, that you may rest there while I 
tell you my story," said her brother, 
and he tenderly assisted her to the mis- 
erable apology for a lounge, and 
adjusted the cushion as handily as 
Margie could have done. . Lastly he 
threw a comforter over the invalid, 
then after waiting until the violent 
coughing spell, which racked her poor 
frame, was over, he said sadly : 

" Father died six months ago, and 
since that time mother and I have 
sought foi you, advertised in dailies, 
far and near, with no success whatever. 
Mother was discouraged, but I would 
not give up. I had secretly been on 
the search for many long years, sister. 
Do not think you have been forgotten. 
I arrived here day before yesterday and 
began a search with little or no hope 
of success. Last night I saw a young 
lady enter a small grocery store, and 
her likeness to yourself startled me. 
I followed her, intending to question 
her, but I saw that the proprietor knew 
and trusted her, so I waited until after 
she had left the store, and then made 
inquiries. At first he would tell me 
nothing, but when I told him my rea- 
sons for inquiring, he gladly told me 
all I wished to now, with one exception, 
he did not know where you lived. He 
promised to ascertain as soon as possi- 
ble and let me know. This morning 
he came to my hotel with the desired 
information, and I hastened hither at 
once." " Did my father ever forgive 
me?" asked Mrs. Benson, huskily. 
"Yes, Margaret, and wished so much 
to see you before he died, that he 
might ask your forgiveness. His death 
was very sudden. He had no time to 
alter his will, but he trusted me to give 
you one half of his property, and I 
gladly promised to do so, if I could 
find you. Thank God, I have suc- 
ceeded." "And mother is well," asked 
Mrs. Benson. "Yes, Margaret." 

"Have you no family, William?" 

1 84 


" No, sister, I have never married and 
probably never shall. I entered the 
store as clerk soon after your marriage, 
and for ten years have Veen junior 
partner, succeeding to the whole busi- 
ness at father's death. And now, Mar- 
garet, this miserable life must end. 
You have killed yourself for Tom Ben- 
son. I can see that, but at least you 
can die in peace and plenty. I shall 
take rooms for you where you can be 
quiet, and telegraph for mother at once. 
As soon as practicable you must be 
moved out of this den, Margie bids 
adieu to factory life at once. As for 
Tom, he can take care of himself. I'll 
have nothing to do with him," he con- 
cluded, bitterly. "William, I cannot 
leave him like this, indeed I cannot. 
After all he is my husband." murmered 
Mrs. Benson sadly. "Well, well, sister, 
when Margie comes we will see what 
can be done. Just be as quiet as you 
can while I go out for an hour or so." 
Tenderly William Roden bent over his 
sister, loved so dearly in other days, 
and pressing a kiss upon her wasted 
cheek, he turned away with tears in his 
eyes, and hastily replacing his coat and 
muffler, he hurriedly left the house. 
Left to herself, Mrs. Benson burst into 
tears of mingled joy and sorrow. For 
twenty long years her parents and only 
brother had been the same as dead to 
her. After her marriage, she had 
written letter after letter to her father, 
praying for forgiveness, but when she 
found they were of no avail, she reso- 
lutely tried to forget them all. Her 
mother and brother, she well knew, still 
loved her, but Mr. Roden, stern and 
unyielding, had forbidden them to see 
her, even going so far as to threaten to 
disinherit his son if his commands 
were not obeyed. About two years 
after their marriage, Mr. and Mrs. Ben- 
son removed to the city of M , 

leaving behind them no trace of their 
whereabouts. Through all the long 
years that followed, Mrs. Benson had 
never heard one word concerning her 
relatives, and therefore her surprise 
was great indeed, when her brother so 
unexpectedly entered her home. 


" I tell you it is of no use ! Go 
awav and let me alone, William Ro- 

Tom Benson sat in his miserable 
home near the close of a bitter cold 
day, about a week after the events nar- 
rated in the preceding chapter. There 
was no fire in the stove, and dreary 
and cheerless enough seemed the drunk- 
ard's home, as Mr. Roden entered it, 
having been searching for the misera- 
ble man for several days. True to his 
promise, he had conveyed his sister to 
a pleasant suite of rooms in a quiet lo- 
cality, and then telegraphed for his 
mother, who had soon arrived. Mar- 
gie had seen her father and told him of 
the change in their lives, and begged 
him to see her uncle William. This he 
had utterly retused to do, and had 
managed to keep out of the gentle- 
man's sight until the afternoon in 
question. But at length he had been 
compelled to drag his miserable body 
to his old home, the tenement where 
his wife and daughter had passed so 
many weary hours. Here Mr. Roden 
had found him, and had sought to 
awaken within his heart, hope that he 
might yet reform. ■ It is true he had 
shrank from the task his sister had al- 
loted him, for he despised the besotted 
wretch, and had no pity for him, until 
he saw him so worn out and de- 
spairing, seated before the fireless 
stove, his face buried in his trembling 
hands. He remembered him as he 
had seen him in other days, tall, erect 
and handsome, and for his sister's sake 
resolved to do everything in his power 
to help him overcome the passion for 
strong drink that had been his ruin. 

"Tom, your wife loves you yet, and 
only this morning, begged me to find 
you and bring you to her side. She is 
very comfortable in her new nome, and 
the physicians bid us hope that she 
may be much better, with good care 
and nourishment, such as she is now 
receiving. Now, Tom, let me hear you 
say you will try and you shall have 
every facility in my power to bestow, to 
help you on your way. Only say you 



will try." During his words, William 
Roden had kept his eyes fixed upon 
the poor wretch before him, and he saw 
that he was visibly affected, but he 
made no reply. Mr. Roden resumud 
after a few moments silence. " I will 
go out and get some coal for a fire, and 
something for you to eat. and then 
after you are warmed and have had a 
good dinner, you will feel more like 
talking with me. Will you promise to 
remain here while I am away?" At 
that moment the outer door opened 
and Margie entered the room. One 
week had made a great change in her 
appearance. The beautiful brown eyes 
had in a measure lost their look of sor- 
row, though a cloud darkened their 
brightness as they rested on the bowed 
form of her father. The sweet face, 
however, wore a happier look, and just 
the faintest of pink flushes rested in 
the delicate cheeks. She was dressed 
neatly and warmly, and her step light 
and elastic with new life, told how much 
a little comfort can do for one who has 
suffered the pangs of poverty and de- 
spair. Mr. Roden 's eyes rested long- 
ingly upon her as she stepped forward, 
and pausing by her father's side, she 
laid one slender gloved hand upon his 
worn, threadbare coat and said : 

" Father, have you no word for your 
daughter Margie? Mother wishes to 
see you at once, she is much better or 
would be if you would but go to her. 
Say, father, will you go?" 

"I am ashamed to go, Margie, I 
have abused you so much that I — Oh, 
Margie, my child, my child !" Down 
upon her knees sank the young girl, 
and throwing her arms around her 
father's neck, she drew his head down 
until it rested upon her shoulder. Then 
she tenderly drew off the old battered 
hat, and brushed back from his fore- 
head the matted hair, sobbing all the 
while. "Oh, my dear, dear father, we 
vyill forget that dreadful time, and you 
will be my loving father once more. 
Say you will go with me." 

"If you think you can save me, I 
will go with you, but William — Margie 
— I am not worth the trouble," he re- 
plied, raising his head from his daugh- 

ter's shoulder and brushing away the 
tears that had rolled down his cheeks. 
"Will you go at once? " said Margie, 
eagerly'. ''I cannot go to her looking 
like this. Margie," said her father as he 
looked down upon his ragged clothes 
and worn shoes. Mr. Roden then 
spoke : " I think, my dear, that he had 
better have a fire here, and something 
to eat, and then we will make a few 
calls before going to your mother. He 
wants to leave behind him every possi- 
ble trace of the life he has led, and he 
is right. Yes, uncle William, I will soon 
have a fire and some nourishment for 
him." She left the room as she spoke, 
but soon returned bearing kindlings and 
coal, and very soon had a warm fire 
burning in the little stove. Then she 
hurried out upon the street, returning 
soon with oysters, crackers and tea, 
which she quickly prepared and placed 
up£>n the little table. Her father ate 
but little, but arose from the table evi- 
dently refreshed. 

It was growing quite dark when the 
two men left the house. Margie waited 
only long enough to tidy up the little 
kitchen for the last time. When all was 
arranged to her satisfaction, she, too, 
left the house, locking the door behind 
her. Meeting their landlord soon after, 
she gave him thekey, telling him he was 
welcome to the furniture, or anything 
else the rooms contained. Then she 
hurried on her way, feeling that she had 
really done with her old life and its 
surroundings forever. An hour later 
as she sat beside her mother telling her 
over and over again the joyful news, 
the door opened and Mrs. Roden en- 
tered the room. She was a lovely lady, 
with silver gray hair, and a sweet, sad 
look in the gentle blue eyes that rested 
so lovingly upon her daughter, as she 
came slowly forward. " Margaret, your 
husband has come and is waiting to see 
you. Shall I bid him come in?" "Yes, 
dear mother, I would see him at once." 
Even Margie could hardly believe that 
the man who soon entered the room 
and knelt so penitently before her 
mother, could be her father. His 
long, unkempt hair and beard had been 
closely trimmed, and a neat suit of 

1 86 


black had taken the place of the rags 
he had so lately worn. It was no easy 
task for him to conquer his appetite for 
v rongdrink. ThosW wht^wtaessed die 
struggle never forgot it. They pitied 
and helped him, and Mrs. Benson 
lived to see her husband entirely cured. 
For a time they fondly hoped and be- 
lieved her better, but toward spring 
she grew worse. It was her great de- 
sire to return to her old home, where 
she had passed her happy girlhood 
days, and the first of May they de- 
parted from M . She bore up 

wonderfully and when they reached 
home, declared herself better than 
when she started, but as soon as the 
excitement and pleasure of reaching 
her loved, home was over, in a meas- 
ure, she began to sink, and there came 
a day, at last, when her weeping friends 

gathered around her bedside to receive 
her last, kind, loving words. Clara had 
been summoned home, and with all 
hei friends suriounding her, Mrs. Ben- 
son breathed her last. 

Margie had already become the light 
of her grandmother's home, and as 
soon as her grief at her mother's death 
had in a' measure subsided, she began 
to look eagerly forward to an education, 
and succeeded in becoming an accom- 
plished woman. Mr. Benson entered 
the large establishment of Roden <N; 
Co., as clerk, and came to be much 
respected by all who associated with 
him. Most especially was he noted 
for his kindness to those who were 
treading the downward path, ne had 
once trod, and more than one owed 
their entire reform to him. 




In the early days of this township, 
the domestic customs were copied from 
the olden districts of Massachusetts, and 
were largely in common with those of 
all rural New England, so far as the 
conditions of this primative wilderness 
would allow. The dwellings were at 
first small and incommodious, as well 
as built of logs. Such habitations were 
often if not always floorless, with sel- 
dom if 'ever more than one room, 
though they might have afforded a loft 
for the depositing of articles, or for 
other purposes. An open fire place 
and a chimney, and sometimes an 
oven, were necessary appendages of a 
local domestic establishment. Subse- 
quently to the log hut followed the 
framed house. Framed houses were 
largely built upon a substantially uni- 
form plan. A huge chimney stack, a 
brick oven and fire places proportioned 
in number to the represented compe- 

tency of the owner, occupied a central 
position in every dwelling. The back 
part of the house was mostly taken up 
by the kitchen, which was often flank- 
ed on one side by three small apart- 
ments — a buttery, an entry and a cel- 
lar-way. The last was generally sur- 
mounted by a stair-way leading to the 
chamber or attic, by a door leading 
from the entry. A front room and an 
entry, the latter in front of the chim- 

ney stack, and often large enough 


contain a bed, completed the accom- 
modations of the lower floor. The 
chamber was generally an open space 
covered by the naked roof. This de- 
scription, however, applies to the 
house of the poorer resident. Some- 
times an additional joint, affording two 
extra rooms, a front and a back, was 
built to the structure ; sometimes, also, 
the original plan allowed two, square 
front rooms, a front entry, and a kitch- 
en in the rear, flanked by such accom- 
modations as the taste, of the builder 



directed, but very often on one side by 
the buttery, entry and stairways, and 
on the other by a bedroom. 

As the material prosperity of the ear- 
ly inhabitants increased, there was 
evinced a decided inclination to build 
houses with two stories. Many of the 
two-storied houses erected were only 
duplicates of the apartments of the 
prevailing lower edifice. The matter 
of size was apparently entertained as 
an element of importance in the con- 
struction of two-storied houses. Pride 
may have borne its part in this matter. 
since some of these large buildings 
were never finished completely. On 
the other hand, the early attractions of 
the newer western country left many 
of the provided prospective domestic 
accommodations unneeded. 

The early framed houses in this vi- 
cinity were very strongly built. Near 
the top of Putney's hill stands the first 
parsonage in the town, said to be also 
the first framed house, built for the 
Rev. James Scales, the first minister. 
The ancient edifice is 36 feet and 4 in- 
ches in length, and 28 feet and 4 in- 
ches in width. Its posts are 15 feet 
high, and the slope of the roof is 10 
feet. The corner and side posts are of 
solid oak, 8 inches square, with expan- 
sions at the top for the accommoda- 
tion of upper timbers. The plates, of 
clear, solid hard pine, are 10 1-2 by 7 
inches ; the attic beams, of similar 
stuff, are 9 by 8 inches ; the rafters, of 
oak, are 6 by 5 inches, the end ones 
.also being braced ; the oak ribs are 6 
by 3 inches. The fact that S400 has 
been spent upon this house since its 
occupation by the Rev. James Scales, 
and it is even now unfinished, suggests 
some idea of the rudeness of the home 
of that pious gentleman. This house, 
like many others of its time, was loca- 
ted with its front to the south, thus en- 
abling it to serve as a sun-dial. This 
custom of locating houses was often 
followed without regard to the position 
occupied with respect to the highway. 

The ancient kitchen fireplace was 
the largest of all and yearly devoured 
immense quantities of fuel, selected 
and arranged as fore-stick, back-stick 
and superimposed material. Resting 

on fire-dogs or andirons, the fuel burn- 
ed, while pots and kettles suspended 
on the crane by pot-hooks and tram- 
mels, contained the resoiyjwg culinary 
preparations of divers kinds. Baking 
was done by the assistance of the re- 
flecting surfaces of the tin baker, or by 
the cruder method of burying the ma- 
terial to be cooked in the ashes. The 
brick oven was also periodically 
brought into requisition in the prepara- 
tion of food. 

The introduction of stoves* gradually 
brought about a revolution in domestic 
affairs. The work of change began 
about sixty or seventy years ago. The 
innovation was at first attended with 
ridicule and scorn. Necessity, how- 
ever, wrought its own modified results 
in spite of captious opposition. Among 
the patterns of stoves first introduced 
were the James, the Morse, and the 
Moore. Neither of these would com- 
pare favorably with the present styles 
of kitchen stoves, either in economy of 
fuel or ease of culinary results. How- 
ever, the adoption of the first stoves 
was an important step in the path of 
domestic prudence. With a continued 
complement of ancient fireplaces in ev- 
ery dwelling-house, the native supply 
of fuel would before this time have 
been practically exhausted. 

In the earliest days of this settle- 
ment, the fire of the domestic hearth 
was renewed by the use of a flint, a 
steel and a supply of tinder. The in- 
troduction of the lucifer match put an 
end to the less convenient practice of 
kindling. The introduction of the an- 
cient clock, with open works and visible 
pendant weights, relieved society of the 
necessity of locating dwelling-houses 
directly with respect to the cardinal 
points of the compass. The tall, en- 
cased clockf, now frequently seen, fol- 

♦Daniel Chase is said to have been the owner of 
the first stove ever u>ed in this town. It was of 
very thick iron castings, and much heavier thau 
an average stove of the present day. 

t.Many ancient clocks were made by Abel and 
Levi Hutchins of Concord. Sometimes the un- 
cased works werepurchased ot the manufacturers 
and afterwards enclosed. David Young is said to 
have been the maker of the lir^t clock-case con- 
structed Itere. In the rooms of the New Hamp- 
shire Antiquarian Society, at Contoocook, may be 
seen the lir.-t complete tall clock ever brought into 
this town. It was made in 1733, by JONATHAN' 
BLASDEL, and was brought to this town in 1776, 
by Benjamin B. Darling. 



lowed, to be in its turn superseded by 
timepieces of still more modern con- 
struction. The kitchen ware, some- 
times of wood, or ot porcelain, or of 
pewter, exhibited features of less dis- 
tinctive importance, though of different 
relative value when china was as rare 
as now is silver, and pewter as rare as 
china. The general furniture of a 
household, of which there are so many 
lingering representations, needs no 
special description. 

Out of doors, improved utensils were 
adopted as time advanced. "We have 
already given some account of these in 
our article on local industries. Joshua 
Morse owned the first wheelbarrow 
used in the town. The wheel was a 
simple, solid truck, wrought from a 
piece of plank. This implement was 
in use many years ago. The first wag- 
gon had wooden axles, and the body 
had no braces or springs. The seat 
was suspended on a pair of wooden 
strips running longitudinally and acting 
in some degree as springs. The first 
sleigh was double, being capable of 
conveying at least six persons. The 
first single sleigh was owned by Jona- 
than Chase, father of Daniel. The first 
wagon seat, like the first sleigh seat, 
contained a cavity or "box" for the 
convenient transportation of different 

We have already, in a previous arti- 
cle, spoken of each household of the 
olden time as a local manufactory. 
Men, women and children wore largely 
only cloths of domestic manufacture. 
Wool was carded, spun, and wove by 
hand, fulled at the mill, and at home 
made into garments for both sexes. 
Flax was treated in a similar manner. 
The implements employed in the ma- 
nipulation of wool and flax can now be 
found scattered here and there in dif- 
ferent places. Cotton was frequently 
purchased in the form of yarn and 
woven in textile combination with 
wool. The laborious and slow produc- 
tion of fabrics necessitated a stinted 
economy in dress. Ladies' gowns had 
fewer breadths and both sexes had few- 
er changes of raiment. The provision 
of comfortable supplies of domestic 

conveniences required diligent labor of 
the whole available household through- 
out the year. 

in the oiden time, as now, improve- 
ments were at first within the privileges 
of the wealthier class. Consequently, 
they were more properly included in 
the department of domestic luxuries. 
As the local tendencies of population 
became more defined, the village be- 
came the natural centre of refined do- 
mestic attractions. Here luxuries early 
became more generally known than in 
the more rural districts and their glare 
and fascination proportionally influ- 
enced the imagination of the less fa- 
vorably endowed. To cite a case, 
John Harris, Esq., owned the first floor 
carpet ever seen in Hopkinton. The 
introduction of this luxury excited un- 
measured popular comment. 


The privilege of socially comming- 
ling is always highly esteemed in every 
local community. Very soon after the 
settlement of this town, the universal 
taste for sociability began to exhibit it- 
self. People met in lesser circles with 
their private friends or joined the gen- 
eral company on occasions of greater 
social festivity. In every locality more 
stated occasions of popular gatherings 
are selected or set apart. In the ear- 
lier days of this township, a "raising" 
naturally became the incentive to a 
popular demonstration of sociability. 
The erection of the frame of an im- 
portant edifice brought out the majori- 
ty of the entire settlement — men, 
women and children. It was often 
followed by a grand demonstration of 
hilarity. When, about one hundred 
years ago, Jeremiah Story raised the 
frame of his two-storied dwelling house, 
the younger people in the neighbor- 
hood supplemented the event by a 
grand party in the temporary house of 
their host, where some of them "danced 
all night till broad daylight." The au- 
tumnal husking was another occasion 
of jovialty. Both sexes collected at 
huskings, shucked the corn-ears, paid 
forfeits of red ones, consumed a hearty 
supper, of which baked beans, pump- 



kin pies, and attendant gratuities of the 
farmer's kitchen, formed an important 
part, and frequently crowned the fes- 
tivity with a social dance to the music 
of the violin. \\ 'hen instrumental mu- 
sic was wanting, dancing was kept up 
to the jingling melody of the best sing- 
ers in the company. 

Hopkinton being several times the 
seat of the State Government, and al- 
ways close to the permanent Capitol, 
inauguration day, or "'lection," natural- 
ly afforded the people of this town a 
regularly-recurring opportunity to ex- 
ercise their taste for social amusement. 
The fascination of official dignity, the 
display of military, and accidental ar- 
ray of attractive and diverting sights 
and sounds, — all conspired to present 
an entertainment not likely to be over- 
looked by the masses of any society. 
Training and muster days also implied 
attractions appealing to the same social 
passion. The muster day, particularly, 
was a time of greater local interest and 
excitement. The mimic war, attended 
by the thousand and one features that 
always cluster around an out-door pub- 
lic exhibition set the hearts of the 
whole community agog. Nor would 
our references be complete unless we 
mentioned further those opportunities 
of social festivity arising from the gen- 
eral inter-dependence of society in the 
prosecution of personal enterprises. 
The raising and the husking are only 
preliminary in a list including the 
quilting, the apple-paring, and similar 
events of a more social character. 

In the past history of this town was 
developed a social feature for which 
we cannot to-day show an adequate 
compliment. When Hopkinton was a 
centre of commercial and political in- 
fluence, there was a corresponding rep- 
resentation of those who tread only the 
higher paths of social popularity and 
privilege. There were gentlemen and 
ladies of the old school, who not only 
enjoyed the better surroundings afford- 
ed by their position and power, but al- 
so trained their households in a rigid 
etiquette that placed a social value on 
the words and acts of the individual 
unentertained in the ranks of the great 

commonalty. Inevitable later changes 
have left but comparatively little of that 
higher sociability once so prominent. 


In general, throughout the history of 
this town, its people have exemplified 
the traits of character proverbially as- 
cribed to- New England. Great crimes 
have been few, the population being 
mostly of that industrious class finding 
no place for overt acts against the laws 
of good society. However, a person 
familiar with only the present state of 
our social- life can have but little con- 
ception of the peculiar features of hu- 
man character always largely obtaining 
in a pioneer state of civilization. They 
are only individuals of resolute will and 
overwhelming personal force that can 
subdue a wild region, full of wild 
beasts and wild men. Such as subdue 
such a wilderness are both positive and 
stern both in their morals and immor- 
als. In an intense illustration of a vig- 
orous ideal, the first settlers in a new 
country strike heavily right and left, 
dealing energetic and telling blows, 
whether battling for the right or wrong. 
In time the increase of social and re- 
fining facilities tends more to soften 
than to obliterate the essential outlines 
of character pertaining to an incipient 
community, struggling for existence in 
a new country.* Hence, in contem- 
plating the mental character of a peo- 
ple like ours, assuming the essentials 
.to have been the same since the be- 
ginning of local history, it becomes our 
imaginations to intensify their concep- 
tions the further back they extend into 
the past. 

There was one feature of the earlier 
moral life of this town that requires a 
more special explanation. All frontier 
life is liable to be involved with the ex- 
periences of criminal adventures. 
When Hopkinton occupied a promi- 
nent position on the northern New 

*Jn perusing the earlier records of this town- 
ship, one sees an Illustration of this theory in the 
progressive conduct of local legislation frequently 
required to accomplish various ends. Acts were at 
first passed and rescinded in multitudinous in- 
stances. The incorporation of the township, in 
1765, in a larpe measure appears to have softened 
many asperities and essentially established the 
unity and prosperity of the community. 



Hampshire frontier, it became the facile 
resort of thieves, smugglers, counter- 
feiters, and other outlaws, seeking the 
awards of iheir nefarious traffic; The 
obscure haunts of wood and dell afford- 
ed many an opportunity of conducting 
outlawry, which has left too few reliable 
data to encourage an exact narration. 
Horse-thieving, smuggling and counter- 
feiting were conducted by gangs of ac- 
complices that operated on a line ex- 
tending from Canada to Massachu- 
setts. Secret meetings were held in 
out-of-the-way places, like the dark 
glen on the Sibley brook, as it ap- 
proaches the meadow on Dolloph's 
brook, where, on a dark, rainy night, a 
party is said to have discovered a whole 
convention of men, supposed to be 
consulting for mutual criminal advan- 
tage. Smuggling was earned on in 
goods surreptitiously conveyed across 
the Canada border and thence south- 
wardly to places of profitable destina- 
tion. Goods were conveyed in par- 
cels, united in lots, and distributed 
again in packages, to suit the conven- 
ience of the operators. The partially 
settled state of the country facilitated 
these operations so far that, with all the 
wariness of public officials, very little 
progress was made in arresting the 
crime. The counterfeiters dealt both 
in spurious notes and coin ; the former 
were largely purchased in Canada, 
and the latter to some extent, possibly, 
manufactured here. In the chimney 
of an old house on the Sibley farm, 
taken down in 1878, by Dr. C. P. Gage 
of Concord, was a vault or cavity, un- 
like anything customarily found in old 
chimneys, and supposed to have been 
designed in furtherance of counter- 
feiting. The fact that a former propri- 
etor was confined in the State Prison 
in Charlestown, Mass., for dealing in 
spurious money, added force to the 
suspicion. Different places in this 
town have been pointed out as possi- 
ble or probable scenes of former crimi- 
nalities in the line described, and 
which now belong to a shadowy histo- 
ric past. 

The present subject would be in- 
complete without a reference to the use 
of intoxicating liquors. At the time of 

the settlement of Hopkinton, the prac- 
tice of alcoholic stimulation was essen- 
tially universal. Rum, or some other 
intoxicant, was coioiaereu. an indispen- 
sable household article. Alcoholic 
liquors were drank at home and 
abroad. All social courtesies were 
confirmed in drinking. The neighbor 
who congratulated at the event of birth, 
the friend at the fireside, the laborer in 
the field, the customer at the counter, 
the guest at the wedding, the • clergy- 
man on his parochial rounds, and the 
mourner at the funeral, were all treated 
to liquor. On gala days and occasions 
fabulous quantities of intoxicants were 
consumed. When the first Baptist 
church in the town was raised, the 
brethren provided a barrel of rum, and 
a complimentary supply of sugar, for 
the refreshment of the company. Dur- 
ing one town-meeting in the older 
time, over sixty dollars worth of liquor 
was sold in small quantities*' in one 
store alone. During the continuance 
of the general traffic in liquor, Ira A. 
Putney, a teamster, conveyed from the 
lower country into one store in this 
town, thirty-six hogsheads of rum in 
six weeks. Possibly a considerable 
part of this quantity was consumed in 
other places, being distributed to 
traders more distant from the southern 
centres of wholesale traffic. 

Previously to the great temperance 
reformation, which begun in this town 
about fifty years ago, the popular traffic 
in and consumption of alcoholic liquors 
was carried on without special moral 
consideration, though to some extent 
under legal cognition. f The redemp- 

*In 17S3, Rev. Elijah Fletcher settled a bill at 
the store of Abel Kimball. There were thirty- 
eight charges in the bill, and they were all for 
Email quantities of liquor, ranging from a dram to 
a "point/' including glasses and "mugs of tlip." 
The evidence of mutual settlement at the bottom 
of the account is as follows : 

Jan. ~'J, 17S5. Reckoned and Settled all accounts 
from the Beginning of the World to this Day, and 
nothing Due on either side. 

Elijah Fletcher. 

Abel Kimball. 

fThe following extract from the records of this 
town illustrates : 

Merrimack, ss. 

To the Honorable Samuel Morrill, Judge of the 
Probate for said County. 

We, your Petitioners, humbly sheweththat 

of Hopkinton, in said county, is in a habit 

of being almost continually intoxicated, which ua- 



tion of local society from this extended 
sway of alcohol was however mostly ef- 
fected by moral suasion. Rev. Roger 
C. Hatch of the Congregational church, 
Rev. Michael Carlton of the Calvinist 
Baptist church, Rev. Arthur Caverno, 
of the Freewill Baptist church, Dr. 
James Gregg, and perhaps others, were 
prominent local apostles of temperance. 
Through the influence of men of high 
moral stamina, who presented econom- 
ic, moral and spiritual motives, a great 
work of popular reform was instituted. 
However, a strict regard for historic 
truth requires us to suggest that, in re- 
fit* him for any kind of business, and is spending 
his property, and when under the influence of ar- 
dent spirits is very violent and abusive to his fam- 
ily, and there is some property still left under very 
peculiar circumstances. We therefore pray your 

Honour to appoint Guardian over said 

agreeably to the laws of said State in such cases 
made and provided, as in duty bound will pray. 
July Gth, 1S26. 

B" dwell Emerson, ) Selectmen 
Stephen Darling, [ of 
Stephen siulev, ) Hopkinton. 

viewing this great revolution, allowance 
must be made for the fact that among 
those abandoning the use of intoxicants 
at that time there were w*a»y sv-k© had 
adhered to the use of liquor, not from 
any passion for it, but simply in fulfill- 
ment of a popular custom. The 
knowledge of this fact incurs a charita- 
ble consideration for the moderate suc- 
cess of the modern temperance reform- 
er, who has almost wholly to combat 
causes that lie in the deeper recesses 
of the human mental or moral constitu- 
tion ; since men who are accustomed 
to commit acts in the face of popular 
sentiment are more difficult of effective 
moral approach through any avenue. 

Since later times, permanent socie- 
ties have been formed here in the 
name of temperance. In 1S74, an or- 
ganization of Good Templars was form- 
ed in the village of Contoocook ; in 
1S7S, one in Hopkinton village. 



The author of the flattering tribute to 
"injured innocense" — a studied eulogy 
of the wonderful learning, eminent tal- 
ent, honest purpose, respectability, dis- 
interested and distinguished public and 
private services, ability to ''harness a 
horse," drive a duck to water, and the 
beautiful christian virtues of the men 
who "see many things," who "think 
much, travel much, read much, write 
much, talk much," smoke much and 
pray without ceasing — vide the Granite 
Monthly for December, 1S7S — is un- 
doubtedly a lawyer of the class com- 
plained of as thriving on the misunder- 
standings and misfortunes of their fel- 
lowmen in the humbler walks of life. A 
lawyer forsooth ! To attribute a review 
of this character to any other profes- 
sional man would be to do an injustice, 
violence if you please, to the public es- 
timate of the cloth. The ear-marks, 

and the arraignment, the avoidance of 
context in the matter he would criti- 
cise, and the begging of the question 
at every point all bear too true a re- 
semblance to the style of composition 
of the average lawyer to be mistaken 
by even a billious magazine scribbler. 
Yes, my would be smart critic must 
be a cheeky lawyer. Xo other profes- 
sional man who is in his right mind, 
certainly no mortal of common clay, 
who respects himself and venerates the 
truth, would be guilty of such unfair- 
ness as is manifest throughout "Law- 
yers and Politicians." But why do I 

1. This reviewer, this "Daniel come 
to judgment" lawyer, like the world 
over, argues but one side of the cause. 
He introduces testimony riot warranted 
by the facts, and draws upon his imag- 
ination for conclusions in a manner 



that makes him ridiculous even to those 
favorable to vices. An honest reviewer 
makes mention of the article in which 
he linds sentiments that conflict with 
his own as a whole. He throws no 
mud at its author, and seeks no quarrel. 
He does not guess at grievances or hy- 
pothecate motives. He is exceedingly 
careful to understand the author's crea- 
tion that he would desert, to commend 
whatever is commendable as well as to 
condem whatever seems to him wrong 
in theory and spirit. Not so with this 
new school reviewer. He brushes 
aside all these considerations and pro- 
ceeds with the ''cut direct." We com- 
plain, therefore, of ungenerous treat- 
ment, and insist that we have been 
placed in a wrong light. And why? 
For the simple reason that what we 
said about lawyers was very meager, 
and, on the whole, quite complimenta- 
ry. Taken in connection with other 
matter in the article, its spirit need not 
be misunderstood — the whole being a 
review of the lesser side of professional 
men rather than the larger ; of the 
things to be avoided by those starting 
out in life, rather than a measure of the 
measurer of success or failure those far 
advanced in life have attained. The 
very text was balanced with exceptions, 
so that the application was in every 
readers possibility. The argument, if 
argument there was, accommodated it- 
self to a "class" within a profession, 
and with those who understand the 
mystery of a mouse-trap there is no oc- 
casion for misunderstanding. Those, 
therefore, who are above the pettifogg- 
er and the cheap demagogue, are not 
disturbed by what is unquestionably 
true of men in the law business, and, 
unlike vain and silly women, are con- 

tent that others should sound their 
praise or speak their condemnation. 

2. No other professional man, aside 
from the "elas* y uf lawyers mentioned, 
would attempt to magnify the virtues of 
a mere politician, on the hypothesis that 
the article he is grieved about assails 
them, when in truth and in fact every 
word he quotes (as he must know) is 
set down against another class — the 
gambler and sporting man. In this 
particular his review ceases and bitter 
irony possesses him. He is terribly 
out of joint with the times, and withal 
severe on the author. "The 'professor 
of polities' needs no special notice in 
New Hampshire. He is an ever pres- 
ent individual, and what he don't know 
— unless he is mightily mistaken, and 
he never will admit as much — no mag- 
azine writer can tell." Only this and 
nothing more is said about politicians, 
and hence my learned and discourte- 
ous reviewer, who quoted me as saying 
all manner of evil against them, must 
stand convicted of perverting the facts 
to make out a case — not an uncommon 
occurrence with cheap lawyers. My 
conclusion is that he should summons 
for the spirit of his "saintly teacher," 
and request to be taught that the first, 
last, and only qualification of a reviewer 
is honesty. After he has learned this 
lesson he should be told by some "bili- 
ous magazine scribbler, who has been 
righteously whipped in a law-suit," that 
his argument — it is not a review — re- 
putes itself; that no better evidence of 
the statement that lawyers are "not 
burdened so heavily with knowledge as 
by cheek" is needed among ordinary 
people than the exhibition he makes of 
himself as a would-be reviewer. 





''•[fly Wwi 4 





vol. n. 

APRIL, 1S79. 



When a biographer encounters the 
duty of describing, in the abstract, a 
character which demands greater elab- 
oration in order to do it reasonable jus- 
tice, he must be excused for the rough- 
ness of the outlines, which, with the 
proper shadings thrown in, would give 
his descriptive picture more satisfactory 
approximation to its required fidelity. 
In the present instance limitation of 
space, and partial opportunity to glean 
matters of fact and incident suitable for 
biographical record, justify the claim 
on the reader for such excuse. In so 
far as details are given, however, they 
will be found correct. 

John Hatch George, son of John 
George, Esq., and Mary Hatch, his 
wife by a second marriage, was born in 
the house in Concord, N. H., now the 
Colonel's residence in that city, on the 
twentieth day of November, 1824, and 
is now, therefore, in his fifty-fifth year. 
The native place of his father was Hop- 
kinton, but from his early manhood un- 
til the period of his death he was a res- 
ident in Concord, where he held the 
common respect of the citizens as a 
man of great energy and of unalloyed 
integrity. He died in 1843. Mary 
Hatch, mother of the subject of this 
sketch, survived her husband four 
years. She was a daughter of Samuel 

Hatch. Esq., of Greenland. Of the 
same family were the father of Hon. 
Albert R. Hatch of Portsmouth, and 
the mother of John S. H. Frink, Esq., 
both of .whom stand high in profession- 
al and political relations in New Hamp- 
shire — worthy descendants of a worthy 
ancestry, noted for great native abili- 
ties, honesty, industry and persever- 

The boyhood of Col. George, as 
contemporaries say, was unmarked by 
any special indication of that decided 
description which sometimes heralds a 
boy's preference for a life pursuit. He 
was slow neither at learning or at play. 
If he had a prevailing passion it was 
for the possession and care of domestic 
animals, on which he lavished great 
wealth of kindness, a quality which has 
grown with his growth and strength- 
ened with his strength. His farm man- 
ager is authority for the opinion that 
''he would kill his animals with kind- 
ness were they so unfortunate as to 
have his constant personal attendance. " 
His love for rural pursuits was a hered- 
itament, and also clings to him with in- 
creasing vigor unto this day. 

He was educated at the public 
schools in Concord, and was fitted for 
college at the Old Academy in that 
city. He entered as a student at 



Dartmouth college in 1S40, without 
having any special profession in future 
view, and deported himself with credit 
while there. YVffen .his father died-, 
some three years afterward, he had to 
resign his college course, but his grad- 
uating degree, and that of Master of 
Arts, was subsequently conferred .on 
him by the Faculty of Dartmouth. 

It was fortunate for him, and largely 
also due to the promising character of 
young George, at this most important 
period of his life, that his family en- 
joyed the friendship of Ex- President 
Franklin Pierce. Ail who were privi- 
leged with the personal acquaintance of 
that eminent man knew the peculiar 
skill he had in the discovery of latent 
merit among the youth whom he hon- 
ored with his friendship, and the more 
than kindly interest he took in many, 
who, only for his encouragement, 
would have lacked the spirit to aspire. 
Without previous consultation concern- 
ing his inclination towards the study of 
law, Gen. Pierce invited young George 
to enter his office and prepare for ad- 
mission to the bar. That the youth 
had what is called ''a legal mind" had 
been a quiet discovery made by his 
friend and patron, who was then at the 
head of the law-firm, in Concord, of 
Pierce & Fowler. Here, for three years, 
Col. George applied himself diligently 
to' his studies, passed a reputable ex- 
amination, and was admitted to the bar 
in 1846, and at once entered into part- 
nership with Gen. Peaslee, and on the 
practice of law under the firm-name of 
Peaslee and George, which united in- 
terest continued until 1851, when he 
formed a copartnership with Sidney 
Webster, Esq. 

Prior to his majority Col. George 
had been hovering round the verge of 
politics, and, at every circuit of the 
whirlpool he was drawn nearer to its 
vortex. For many years, and with but 
few interruptions, the Democracy had 
guided the politics of New Hampshire 
up to 1847, u 'hen the Colonel held his 
first public office as clerk of the State 
Senate. This office he filled in 1848, 
and again in 1850. In 1849 ne was 
appointed Solicitor for the county of 

Merrimack, re-appointed in 1S54, an<j 
removed by address, solely for political 
reasons, in 1S56. 

The same year in which he was 
made Solicitor for Merrimack county 
he was married to Miss Susan Ann 
Brigham, daughter of Levi Brigham. 
Esq., of Boston. Mrs. George died in 
1863, leaving five children — three sons 

and two daughters. 

In 1865 

he w 

again married to Miss Salvadora Meade 
Graham, daughter of Col. James D. 
Graham, of the United States Engi- 
neers. Lie has had one daughter by 
this marriage. His eldest son, John 
Paul, graduated last year at Dartmouth 
college, and is now studying at Har- 
vard Law School. His eldest daugh- 
ter, Jane Pierce, is married to Mr. H. 
E. Bacon, of Portland, Maine, and his 
second son ; . Charles Peaslee, is at the 
L'nited States Naval School at Annapo- 
lis, Md. A son and daughter — Benja- 
min Pierce and Ann Brigham — are at 

Famous as the bar of New Hamp- 
shire has been for its eminent men, few 
of their number gained, so early in 
their legal career as did Col. George. 
such reputation for skill and devotion 
to the interests of clients. His success 
was remarkable, and yet it was simply 
the meet reward of the most devoted 
study and perseverance in professional 
duty. Gifted with a powerful physical 
organization he accomplished miracles 
of labor in the legal and political fields. 
He was fortunate in the sympathy and 
aid he received in both relations from 
his partners, Gen. Peaslee and Sidney 
Webster, Esq., and until the latter gen- 
tleman, in 1852, became the private 
Secretary of President Franklin Pierce, 
when the brief copartnery was dis- 
solved. In 1853 he formed another 
partnership with Judge William L. Fos- 
ter, with which Hon. Charles P. San- 
born, ex-Speaker of the New Hamp- 
shire House of Representatives, subse- 
quently became associate. The firms 
thus severally constituted held high 
reputation in the locality and state, and 
managed, with admirable skill, and 
great success, many of the prominent 
civil and criminal cases in Merrimack; 


Grafton, and other counties in the state. 
Our gleanings are defective in their 
record of the leading cases — civil and 
criminal — in which Col. George had 
prominence as leading counsel, as pub- 
lic prosecutor, or otherwise. He was 
prosecutor in the case of State v. Has- 
kell, a negro man. and wife, in 1S55, 
when sentence of death passed on Has- 
kell for murder, which doom was com- 
muted to imprisonment for life. Being 
officially engaged on this trial the mem- 
ory of the writer enables him to state 
that the conduct of this case by the 
prosecutor was managed with great 
skill, and without that redundancy of 
immaterial testimony, and surplusage 
of words in argument, which very often 
render trial proceedings, which ought 
, to be of grave and dignified character, 
almost ludicrous. Other capital cases. 
defended by Col. George, and followed 
by acquittals, were those of State r. 
Scammel, tried in Grafton county ; 
State v. Young, tried in Rockingham 
county, and State v. Sawyer, decided 
in Grafton county. Among Col. 
George's more memorable civil cases 
were those of Smith v. the Boston, 
Concord and Montreal railroad ; Con- 
cord railroad v. Clough ; Frost v. the 
city of Concord ; Tufts' Brick Compa- 
ny v. Boston and Lowell railroad, and, 
recently, and still unfinished, the suit 
Commonwealth of Massachusetts and 
the pier accident case at Salem. 

In 1 85 1 and during the two succeed- 
ing years, and again in 1856, he was 
chairman of the Democratic state com- 
mittee, during which he did much ac- 
tive service. He was especially prom- 
inent in organizing the Presidential 
campaign which resulted in the elec- 
tion of his intimate personal friend — 
Gen. Franklin Pierce. From 1852 
until i860 he was a member of the 
national Democratic committee : and, 
from 1853 until 1858, he was United 
States Attorney for New Hampshire. 
In 1853 he was elected a member of 
the state legislature, but he resigned 
his seat on accepting the appointment 
of U. S. Attorney. 

It may properly be mentioned here 
that Col. George had a narrow escape 

from becoming Secretary for the terri- 
tory of Minnesota. That appoint me:.; 
was offered hirs and accepted, and all 
arrangements were made to enauic him 
to go to the north-west. On going to 
Washington he was informed by Presi- 
dent Pierce that he need not hasten his 
departure for a couple of weeks, nor 
until the President and he should have 
an opportunity to talk over old heme 
matters : but some business having 
been left undone in New Hampshire 
by the colonel, he sought permission to 
return and complete it, for which he 
had leave. On arriving at home such 
was the pressure brought to bear on him 
by his old clients, and such the impor- 
tance and value of new encouragements 
presented him, as to induce him to give 
up the Minnesota appointment and 
resume his profession in Concord, 
greatly to the satisfaction of his frier, is 
in social, political and business relations. 
Although primarily, in his military 
career, he was a member of that nu- 
merous-body which hold colonelcies ' y a 
merely ornamental tenure, it earn or 
be said of him that he "never se: a 
squadron in the field ;" for, besides be- 
ing aid-de-camp and chief of staff of 
Gov. Dinsmore during three years, up 
to 1850, for several years from the or- 
ganization he commanded company A. 
of the " Governor's Horse Guards," 
one of the finest, best equipped and 
most thoroughly drilled cavalry corps 
in New England, and one in which the 
people of the state had just pride. 
. From 1847 until 1S66, Col. George 
was clerk and counsel for the Concord 
railroad. In 1 86 7 he moved his orh : e to 
Boston, he having accepted the position 
of Solicitor for the Boston and Lowell 
and associate railroads — a position he 
now holds. He has a peculiar fitness for 
this office, through his being thoroughly 
conversant with railroads, their laws and 
modes of their management. In Feb- 
ruary, 1870, at the special request of 
the leading citizens of Concord, he de- 
livered a public address on (i Railroads 
and their Management," which was ex- 
haustive of the subject and created 
great local as well as wide national 
interest. It was reported by a short- 



hand expert, published and extensively 
circulated, and is held as reliable au- 
thority regarding the theory of railroad 
management. His connection with 
railroads has been intimate and extend- 
ed. He is director of the Mount 
Washington, the Profile and Franconia, 
and also of the Peterborough railways. 
He was one of the originators arid ear- 
liest advocates of the Concord and 
Claremont and Contoocook Valley 
roads, and has aided largely in the 
construction of the various lines which 
have conserved to Concord its central- 
ity. There are ways and means whereby 
men receive much popular reputation 
and credit for services as hollow and 
objectless as those of Col. George were 
substantial and valuable : yet it is but 
just to say in behalf of the wise and 
discriminating among our people that 
they put the genuine patriotic value on 
his efforts and esteem the man accord- 
ingly as a people's friend. 

Last year Col. George was appointed 
a Trustee for the X. H. Asylum for the 
Insane. Lie has largely and influen- 
tially participated in local affairs in 
Concord. For many years he labored 
earnestly in the improvement of the 
public schools, and took deep interest 
in the elevation of the standard of edu- 
cation taught therein. He invariably 
upheld that the perfection of the 
school buildings was essential, as a pre- 
cursor of the required improvement in 
the educational course. Because of 
this sentiment, he was employed on 
building committees chosen to manage 
the erection of several of our .school 
buildings, which, for completeness and 
adaptability to their uses, Concord is so 
justly noted. In 1877 he was chosen 
a member of the Board of Education 
of the Union District. In course of his 
very active service in these relations, 
he has never made pecuniary charge 
on his fellow citizens for his labors, 
whether rendered as a lawyer or as a 
citizen. If the city records bear any 
evidence of such charge having been 
recognized, whatever it may be, the 
amount was never received by the col- 
onel, but went back to the city schools 
in some shape or another, useful and 

necessary. When the effort to re- 
move the State Capitol was made, he 
exerted even- energy in his power to 
prevent the success 01 this design, ana 
labored with great dilgence and sell 
sacrifice in that direction. 

As previously stated. Col. George 
entered the arena of politics almost at 
the outset of his active life. Nature 
and mental acquirements combined to 
give him prominence in politics while 
yet almost a youth. His recognized 
energy and executive skill gave him 
the chairmanship of the committee 
appointed to receive President Franklin 
Pierce on his visit to his native State 
and home in 1854, and many will re- 
collect the success attending that great 
event. In 1S59 he was the Demo- 
cratic nominee as candidate to represent 
the Second District in the House of 
Representatives of the United States, 
but failed of an election. In 1863 he 
was again nominated for that office, 
and made a vigorous canvass of the 
district — making twelve addresses per 
week during a month or more — but 
was again defeated after a very close 
vote. In 1866 he was the nominee of 
the Democratic members of the legis- 
lature of that year as candidate for the 
Luiited States Senate. His fellow 
Democrats gave him the full strength 
of their vote, but the Republicans were 
largely in the majority against him. 

A man may be mistaken in his no- 
tions, and be very earnest and persistent 
in their assertion, but he will be always 
respected when his views are believed 
to be honestly entertained and pro- 
nounced. The people only hold in 
contempt a man who has convictions, 
and who is afraid to express them when 
circumstances demand their explana- 
tion. Col. George is no such man. He 
is credited with thinking profoundly of 
what he says, and saying firmly what he 
has thought. He may offend men's 
opinions or prejudices by what he says, 
but he seldom or ever loses their respect, 
because of their conviction of his 
rigid honesty of argument or purpose. 
Socially speaking, and notwithstanding 
his variance in political opinion with 
the majority of his fellow citizens of 



Concord, no public man can count 
more devoted personal friends and 
admirers amid his political opponents 
than he. His experiences nave proved 
the falsity of the poet's contrary asser- 
tion, and that honesty is not a ragged 
virtue, but a covering which no good 
and patriotic man, and worthy citizen, 
can reputably refuse or decline to wear. 
In all respects, aside from politics or 
matters'of public dispute, Col. George's 
social character stands high among his 
fellow citizens. 

The ''brethren of the mystic tie" 
have in him an exalted member of 
their most worthy fraternity, He exists 
among their number as a ''Sovereign 
Grand Inspector" of the 33d and final 
degree in Masonry, and as an* active 
member of the "Supreme Council of 
the Ancient and Accepted Scottish Rite 
of the Northern Jurisdiction of the 
United States," and has taken all the 
lower degrees. He is a member of 
the Blazing Star Lodge, and of the 
Mount Horeb Commandery of Con- 
cord, and was, for several years. Com- 
mander of the latter organization. Of 
most of our local charities, he is a 
quiet but liberal supporter ; and the 
incidental demands of benevolence 
find him always a ready friend. 

Notwithstanding the gTeat pressure 
of professional and other duties, much 
attention is given by Col. George to ag- 
riculture, and those improvements con- 
nected therewith, sanctioned alike by 
modern science and experience. He 
owns a fine farm just over the western 
boundary of Concord, in the town of 
Hopkinton, where the improvement 
and enrichment of the soil, and the 
breeding and raising of horses and Jer- 
sey cattle form part of his summer pur- 
suits. It is not certain that he will add 
largely to his fortune by his efforts as a 
"gentleman farmer ;" but the external 
aspects of his management are such as 
to make those efforts valuable, at least, 
as examples. His rules providing for 
cleanliness, comfort and kindness to- 
wards his farm animals are seen in their 
fine condition, and reported to be profit- 
ably justified by their superior produce. 
No better proof of a man's nobility in 

the ranks of humanity can be found 
than in his kindness towards his dumb 

An& now, m oonciu-I.jn. a few words 
as to Col. George's status as a politician 
and a lawyer. As has already been 
shown he is a Democrat. Keeping al- 
ways in view the foundation principles 
on which that policy rests, he is what 
may be properly called a progression- 
ist. He recognizes — what many can- 
not do — the fact that the science of 
politics advances, as does even- other, 
and that, while fundamental principles 
never vary, circumstances occur to 
change the rigid rule of their applica- 
tion, though not to materially vitiate its 
force or out of due considera- 
tion. The political influences of today 
may not be fit to govern in what those 
of tomorrow may demand : and he 
can only be a narrow-minded man who 
can think otherwise and act according- 
ly. He certainly can have no pure el- 
ement of statesmanship within him. 
But associated with this progressive- 
ness there is no feature of vaccillation 
or radical change and departure from 
the organic principles of his party in 
Col. George. He is as true as steel to 
both, and no man among the Democ- 
racy of New Hampshire has a larger 
share of the confidence and respect of 
his compatriots. His public addresses 
are held by his admirers as models of 
honest, terse, pertinent and well-judged 
and founded argument ; and he cer- 
tainly carries an audience along with 
him, not by the use of clap-trap and 
sensationalism, but by the bold, acute- 
ly analytical, and forcible representation 
of sound logical facts. He is held to 
be one of the most solid, as well as 
most influential, stump speakers in New 
Hampshire, and his political opponents 
do not deny this. His memory acts as 
an encyclopedia of political history, 
state and national, and this always gives 
him wonderful advantage as an im- 
promptu orator — a duty he has invaria- 
bly to attend to when many or few are 
met together for political deliberation. 

When his reputation and character 
as a lawyer comes up the writer con- 
fesses that the task of describing the 



latter puzzles him somewhat. There is 
no room for hesitation in saying that, 
in eminence of ability, determination 
in arranging the means of success 1 ; 
preparation to meet and confute oppos- 
ing arguments, and unwavering general 
devotion to what he deems the just in- 
terests of his clients, no professional 
man in New England is more than his 
peer. To gainsay this fact would be to 
controvert the opinions of the best men 
on the bench and at the bar, and to at- 
tribute solely to friendly admiration 
what is assuredly a well recognized 
truth. So much for reputation : but 
what can, or should, be said as to Col. 
George's manner as a lawyer? It is 
confident, agressive, bold and indepen- 
dent of every consideration but direct- 
ness ; it shows no aspect of favor for 
aught but the purpose in issue. Some- 
thing has been here recorded of the 
qualities of his political addresses. The 
same bold fearlessness of men. and of 
opposing opinions, the same integrity 
of sentiment and expression, the same 
disregard of what offence the truth, as 
he views it, may give to the opposition, 
are characteristic of him as a pleader at 
law. Here, also, what may, and does 
v seem to sound harshly from his lips is 

materially reconciled to the listener's fa- 
vorable judgment by the pleader's man- 
ifest earnestness, honesty and unach:!:- 
exued dev^;kin to the truth. ;;\d th« 
interest of his client, founded on his 
views thereof. There is no surplusage 
of words in Col. George's legal prelec- 
tions. He is a very Gradgrind for facts, 
and uses them always with direct and 
sledge-hammer force, cultivating cata- 
pult pith rather than the pelting of his 
opposition with roses. Even- energy 
is directed towards power and conquer- 
ing effect. To use the expression of 
one who thoroughly knows the subject 
of this imperfect sketch : "the man in 
trouble who has Col. George for his 
friend and advocate is lucky indeed : 
he who is in legal difficulty, snd has 
him to oppose him is assuredly to be 

Col. George is of robust build, about 
five feet ten inches in height, approxi- 
mates two hundred pounds weight, is 
of strong constitution, enjoys excellent 
health, has immense working power of 
mind and body ; and, if all reports are 
true, it is not likely that he will live a 
long and active life and go •• over the 
hill to the poor-house" at its close. 



All through the summer's rosy hours 

I built my cattle fine ; 
And not a soul should dwell therein, 

Save only mine and thine, 
My Love, 

In loneliness divine. 

No cost of make, or wealth of hue 
I spared from base to dome ; 

Where lordly monarchs choose to bide 
They rear a kingly home ; 

And so 
This rose like silver foam. 

MARCH. 199 

Stand here upon the sunlit plain 

And see how fair it shines ; 
Untaught I planned its airy towers 

And shaped its perfect hues ; 
For love 

All excellence divines. 

But while I gaze, a dusky film 

Across its splendor falls : 
My purples and my gold are dim — 

What ails the reeling walls? 
What doom 

Sends terror through its halls ? 

The keen air sweeps adown the hill : 

Give me a hand to hold ; 
I shiver in these breezes chill 

That grow so fierce and bold , 
Yet hearts 

May laugh at Winter's cold. 

That hand of thine, so fair and strong, 
I thought could clasp me warm ; 

It melts within my burning grasp 
Like touch of ghostly form ; 

I hear 
No heart-beat through the storm. 

Great winds from out the heavens leap 

No castle-dome appears ; 
Rain dashes on mine upturned face, 

To quench the hope of years : 
Pour, floods ; 

Yet faster flow my tears. 



It was a fierce, wild March night. Visions of the cosy parlor, with its 
One can fancy such scenes quite com- tempting tea-table so daintily arranged. 
fortably in cheerful, well-lighted, close- and the pretty, charming wife who pre- 
curtained rooms ; but to breast the sides so gracefully, flit across his brain : 
driving storm of sleet and rain outside, but even their alluring promises can- 
is quite another matter. So thought not blind him a- to the discomforts of 
Mr. Thorpe, a respectable tradesman the present ; and with a gasp of de- 

in the thriving, bustling town of L spair he tucks the wreck of an umbrel- 

as he hurried on through the darkness, la under his arm, buttons his heavy 

and the ever increasing violence of the coat closer around him, and strides en 

gale. through the gloom. No one is astir 


tonight : no sign of life meets him in 
the usually well-filled streets. " Every- 
one is safely housed, but myself, " he 
mutters to the unpitymg darkness. But 
even as he is speaking, a form, tall and 
slight, starts out from the shadows a 
few paces ahead, and pauses for a flash 
of time under the uncertain light of the 
solitary street-lamp, which lamps in 
our aspiring villages are placed at un- 
determinable distances from each 
other, wherever one long straggling 
street happens to meet another, seem- 
ing to say to the night pedestrian, 
"you have safely traversed the impen- 
etrable darkness thus far, behold I in- 
vite you to a continuation of the same. " 

As the figure, evidently a woman's, 
stands thus for a moment clearly de- 
fined against the dark background, Mr. 
Thorpe-is half inclined to fancy that it 
turns to meet his advancing steps with 
a gesture of entreaty ; then suddenly 
and swiftly glides on, and is lost from 

I say he is inclined to fancy that she 
appealed to him for aid ; but being an 
extremely practical man, he never al- 
lows himself such vagaries ; so he ban- 
ishes the fancy, and hurries on. At 
last he has reached his own home. The 
cheery, welcoming light streaming out 
from the windows, sends a cheerful, 
happy 'feeling through his entire being ; 
and with a laugh of defiance at the 
mad fury of the storm, he springs up 
the steps to the sheltering porch, when 
suddenly at his very door his foot 
touches something soft and yielding, 
while at the same time, a little troubled 
cry is heard, mingled with the weird, 
uncanny voices of the wind. Half in 
wonder, half in fear he seizes a myste- 
rious bundle at his feet, and presently 
appears before the astonished gaze of 
his wife, half drenched with the storm, 
a hopeless expression of bewilderment 
and perplexity upon his countenance, 
while in his arms he holds out for her 
inspection the same mysterious bundle, 
from which various small cries issue, 
from time to time, at irregular inter- 
vals. The contents of the aforesaid 
bundle being duly examined, they 
prove none other than a round-faced, 

charmingly beautiful, black eyed bafo? 
girl. There is nothing in the "make', 
up " of the child or its wardrobe that 
even the most fastidious might criti- 
cise ; every article of clothing is of the 
finest texture, and delicately wrought. 
Evidently this is a waif from the very 
lap of luxury, and refinement ; and yet 
an outcast and homeless. 

Tenderly, lovingly, pretty Mrs. 
Thorpe touches and caresses the littie 
stranger, saying half hesitatingly, "*ve 
will care for her tonight, Charles, and 
tomorrow we must make an effort to 
find her parents ; or if they cannot be 
found, perhaps the matron of the or- 
phans' home would take her ; she seems 
so unusually interesting, that I should 
like to be sure she is well cared for, ii 
no one is to claim her." 

"Claim her !" impatiently interrupts 
Mr. Thorpe ; "'You talk like a woman I 
As if any one ever claimed what they 
were glad to be rid of." "But," — his 
voice softening a little as he spoke, for 
in spite of himself the remembrance of 
the unknown woman under the street- 
lamp, and her mute appeal to him for 
sympathy and help, clings to him ; and 
for once, without arriving at his conclu- 
sion by a careful method of reasoning, 
very unlike his usual self, he in some 
strange, undefined way, closely associ- 
ates in his mind the memory of this 
woman, and the presence of the little 
stranger in his home — 

" But, Man', you might as well keep 
the child ; she seems as well disposed 
as such afflictions usually are, and al- 
though I don't approve of babies, and 
therefore wash my hands of the whole 
affair, still it might be a good thing for 
you ; the vacant place in the house- 
hold, you know, will at last be filled. " 

Still later, after Mrs. Thorpe had suc- 
ceeded in coaxing the smiles to chase 
away the tears, and to play hide and 
seek among the convenient dimples in 
the baby's cheeks and chin, she ven- 
tures the question, "What shall we call 
her?" for of course every baby must 
have a name. 

" Call her March ; it would be quite 
apropos," suggests her husband quick- 
ly. "Yes, but," said Mrs. Thorpe, "it 



seems almost like an evil omen to give 
her such a dreary, cheerless name. " 
"Nonsense, my love," returns Mr. 
Thorpe, "What's in a name?" And so 
it is settled, and baby March hence- 
forth becomes an important member of 
the Thorpe household. 

If I were giving a sermon, instead of 
attempting to write a story, I should 
here remark that Mrs. Thorpe was of 
the type of women that many men 
most desire for a wife — pretty, gentle, 
submissive, yielding, and for the good 
of the human race in general. I would 
urge the fair sex to fashion themselves 
in an entirely different mould ; and, 
whether matron or maid, to stand firm 
and self-reliant in their own true 
womanhood ; for, although these shy, 
helpless, clinging ways may seem to 
the masterful lover the very embodi- 
ment of womanly grace, yet they only 
tend to make the one selfish and arro- 
gant, and the other abject and un- 
womanly. But as such is not my pur- 
pose, I shall leave all this unsaid, and 
proceed at once with the story. 

Time drags wearily with the heavy- 
hearted, and all too quickly speeds 
with the gay. To Mr. Thorpe's quiet 
home it has brought no sudden trans- 
formation. The head of the house has 
gone on in his matter-of-fact way, add- 
ing, year by year, to his well-filled cof- 
fers, until he has come to be acknowl- 
edged in business parlance, "one of 
the heaviest men of the town," which 
is quite as true literally. Mrs. Thorpe, 
the matron, is as charming and pretty 
as the Mrs. Thorpe of earlier years ; 
while March has grown from babyhood 
past childhood into dawning woman- 
hood, the pet and idol of the home. 
No clue has ever been given as to her 
mysterious advent among them ; no 
trace of the unknown woman who, sol- 
itary and alone, traversed the deserted 
streets on that wild March night. In- 
credulous people have long since 
ceased to regard this phase of the 
night's experience. For how could any 
strange person, and a woman, go in 
and out among them, without the fact 
being noted and commented upon by 
some of the news-mongers. An utter- 

ly impracticable story 7 ! Thus, the mat- 
ter has been satisfactorily settled to 
their minds. And even Mr. Thorpe, 
from piuzling over the perplexing 
question so long, has been inclined to 
doubt its reality, and has even allowed 
himself to think that possibly it might 
have been a sort of optical illusion ; or, 
more improbable still, an unreal pres- 
ence from the shadowy land, supposed 
to be inhabited by the guardian at- 
tendants of Unite creatures, and condi- 
tions. But be that as it may, he has 
somehow during these years fallen a 
victim to the strange lovableness and 
fascinating wiles of his adopted daugh- 
ter ; and has grown fonder of her than 
he would be willing to acknowledge. 

A rare, beautiful creature she cer- 
tainly has become, with a dusky, richly 
colored style of beauty quite unknown 
among the passionless, phlegmatic peo- 
ple of our sturdy north. A form, 
slight, childlike, with a peculiar undu- 
lating grace of movement, a complex- 
ion brown as the nuts of our own for- 
ests, yet crimson as the reddest rose ; 
wavy masses of ebon hair, catching odd 
gleams in the sunlight, blue-black and 
purplish like a raven's wing, eyes capa- 
ble of wonderful transitions, now full of 
joy, laughter, and sunshine, now flash- 
ing scorn and defiance, or heavy with 
midnight gloom. A strange child, full 
of wild vagaries and incontrolable im- 
pulses. Mrs. Thorpe could no more 
understand her nature or check her 
fierce impetuosity, than she could with 
her weak hands stay the torrent of the 
mountain stream, or control the head- 
long speed of the wind, as it eddies 
and whirls in its mad dance. And so, 
unchecked and unrestrained, March 
has entered upon her regal, imperious 

Naturally, of course, there are many 
manly hearts eager to pay hom- 
age at so fair a shrine ; but Mr. Thorpe 
with paternal pride, has set his heart on 
securing an eligible partner for his 
darling. And so it begins to be ru- 
mored around town, that Hon. Elwyn 
Reeves has out-distanced all competi- 
tors, and is in fact, the betrothed hus- 
band of the beautiful March. To be 



sure, he is her senior by many years, 
but lie comes from a long line of aris- 
tocratic ancestors, and has added to 
his proud name a princely fonuue, as 
his solid, elegant home, away upon the 
hill, frowning in its imposing stateliness 
upon its humbler, less aspiring neigh- 
bors, attests. 

"A very good match indeed, consid- 
ering her mysterious and somewhat 
doubtful parentage, a remarkable chef- 
(Pceuvre of fortune for her ;" say anx- 
ious mammas and disappointed maidens, 
Mr. Thorpe is pre-eminently satisfied, 
and if March herself shows no gratifica- 
tion in regard to her good fortune, it is 
to be attributed to her peculiar disposi- 
tion, at times so reticent and reserved. 
Thus Mr. Thorpe quiets any scruples 
he may have entertained as he remem- 
bers how listlessly and wearily March 
replied, when he had mentioned Mr. 
Reeves' proposal, and dwelt warmly up- 
on the happiness in store for her as his 
wife. " It shall be as you wish, papa, 
you may, if you desire it, give Mr. 
Reeves a favorable answer when he 
calls." But of course she was happy ; 
any sensible person would be with such 
a future in anticipation. 

All are therefore quite unprepared 
for the announcement that Mrs. Thorpe 
with ashen face, and broken, quivering 
voice, first communicates to her hus- 
band, that the servants quickly catch 
up and carry into the streets ; that in 
an incredibly short time is upon every 
tongue — March has left them, as mys- 
teriously and silently as she came 
among them. 

"Where had she gone, and why?" 
These were questions with which spec- 
ulative minds were for sometime busy, 
and anxious. Questions which were 
never answered to them. She had 
gone, leaving no trace behind. In a 
little note addressed to her foster-par- 
ents, she left them her dear love and a 
farewell. She should never, never for- 
get their goodness and tenderness to 
her ; she had been happy with them, 
but she had chosen for herself another 
life, and a happier, and she must needs 
live it. That was all. After a while 
other faces came, and crowded the 

memory of her's away. The house on 
the hill soon found a mistress, who 
brought to her husband as a dower in 
v": ■• pia^ee oi March's queenly beauty, a 
fortune equal in magnificence to that 
of its owner, and so he was content. 
It is one of the laws of compensation 
that gives one good in the place of an- 
other taken. Only Mr. and Mrs. 
Thorpe long remembered, loved, and 
waited for the lost one. 

Every story must have its sequel, so 
has mine. I think it was five years be- 
fore it came. 

In a, tiny cottage, embowered and 
hidden by luxuriant vines and thick, 
swaying foliage, in a quaint little town, 
in a clime where the warmth and glory 
and brightness of the midday sun is 
never paled and dimmed by snow- 
hung clouds, where the air is heavy 
with the perfume of a thousand flowers, 
and balmy with the luscious breath of 
tropical fruits ; where over the senses, 
and into the soul, steal a dreamy, bliss- 
ful languor, and a strange, beautiful 
peace, a woman in all her glorious 
womanhood lay dying. And yet, 
death does not seem very near to that 
young creature who reclines on a low 
couch by the open window, watching 
and dreaming with a far away look in 
the shadowy eyes, and a beautiful smile 
upon the radiant face. A man with 
blue eyes, full of woman's tenderness, 
and hair and beard of silvery white- 
ness, is standing at her* side. And now 
the woman, turning her large, dark 
eyes full upon him, speaks in a low, 
musical voice that thrills the listenei 
with a subtile sense of pleasure and o! 
pain. " Dearest and best of friends, ] 
am come very near to the place where 
the finite and the infinite meet, and 
blend together, and are lost in one, 
The past is vanishing like a glad dream 
so brief, and yet so full of joy and com- 
pleteness. All the unrest, and wild 
passionate longing seem very far awaj 
from me now, such a strange, restfu 
life has come to me. I have beer 
thinking, perhaps it may be that sorat 
lives gather their full measure of sun- 
shine and beauty in a very little time 
while others are longer upon the way 



And so, I have taken my happiness in 
one delicious draught, and now hold 
life's empty goblet in my hands. I 
have been waiting :or this ; my Lite 
was "sealed when, a twelve-month ago, 
they told me that my voice was irre- 
coverably gone ; for with it I had lost 
my art, and that to me was simply life. 
Well, it is best so. It may be in that 
unknown beyond, whither I am hasten- 
ing, I shall find mine own again, and 
my soul shall be satisfied. Today I 
have been living again my old life, a 
stranger and an alien, and yet tenderly 
cared for by warm, loving hearts. I 
suppose they mourned when they •dis- 
covered that their wild, willful March 
had flown. The remembrance of the 
pain I caused them has been my only 
regret in this new life of mine — this 
wonderful, grand life — and I owe it all 
to you, my mother's friend and mine. 
After I am gone, you will send to my 
dear foster-parents my good-bye mes- 
sage. I have told them all. Of my 

vain struggles to find my place among 
the eager, restless throng in the great, 
busy world, with only a wild, untrained 
voice and an unconquerable will to aid 
me. Of my finding a friend, the dear- 
est friend of my angel mother, who pa- 
tiently, lovingly bore with my capri- 
cious, impetuous nature, and with 
lavish prodigality helped me on toward 
the wished for golden goal. And then 
how destiny pressed close upon me, 
with his black pinions o'ershadowing 
me. and the fiat was — "Thus far shalt 
thou go, and no farther." Possibly 
they may not understand it all. They 
will think sadly that my life has been a 
failure, and it may have been ; still I 
am glad to have lived it. It has been 
grand, glorious, and yet I am a little 
weary, and am impatient for the end. 
And very soon it came, and March 
went from the storm, and the tempest, 
the longing and the pain, into light in- 
effable, and peace, eternal. 



She held out her hands for the lilies. 

Her blue eyes so eager and bright. 
And holding them close to her bosom. 

She murmured her soft toned "Dood night.' 

"Ah! baby, my own little darling. 
Though the lilies be never so fair. 

The gold at their hearts i* no brighter 
Than the glinting strands of your hair.*' 

As you in my arms slumber lightly. 

Your bright lashes kiss your fair cheek, 
I pray the kind God to keep safely 

.My own little blossom so meek. 

Then laying her safe in her cradle. 

The lilies clasped close to her breast, 
And kissing her dewy lips softly, 
I leave her alone to her rest. 
The breath of the flowers is no sweeter 
Than the breath of my babe I ween, 
The petals no whiter or purer 
'Than the soul of my wee heart's queen. 

South Boston, Mass. 






That old Roman, Sallust, says : 
"Surely fortune rules all things. She 
makes everything famous or obscure 
rather from caprice than in conformity 
with truth. The exploits of the Athe- 
nians, as far as I can judge, were very 
great and glorious, something inferior, 
however, to what fame has represented 
them. But because writers of great 
talent flourished there, the actions of the 
Athenians are celebrated over the world 
as the most splendid achievements. 
Thus the merit of those who have acted 
is estimated at the highest point to 
which illustrious intellects could exalt 
it in their writings." 

Also, that latest of classical authors, 
Josh Billings, says : "Young man, blow 
your own horn!" These quotations 
express exactly the way in which the 
illustrious intellects of authors in Mod- 
ern Athens (of America) have exalted 
the deeds of Massachusetts' heroes to 
such a degree that most people, outside 
of New Hampshire, do not suppose 
our state had much to do at the battle 
of Bunker Hill, whereas New Hamp- 
shire men constituted nearly four fifths 
of all the men and officers in that bat- 
tle. Therefore I think I have just 
cause to " blow my horn " for my native 
town, and my ancestors who fought in 
that battle. 

Old Nottingham comprised a tract 
of land supposed to be ten miles square, 
and which is now Nottingham, Deer- 
field and Northwood. It was incor- 
porated in 1722, and settlements 
commenced in it soon after, at the 
"Square," a beautiful ridge of land 
about 450 feet above the sea level. At 
the beginning of the Revolution, Not- 
tingham had 999 inhabitants, Deerfield 
929, and Northwood 313. The records 
show that the people were making 
preparations for the coming conflict, 
and had sent generous assistance to 
the "Industrious Poor sufferers of the 

town of Boston" during the seige. 
During the winter of 1774-5, Dr. 
Henry Dearborn had a company of 
men which met at the Square to drill 
from time to time. In November, 1 7 74, 
a town-meeting was held and a com- 
mittee appointed to " Inspect into any 
Person," suspected of being a Tory. 

On the 20th of April, 1775, news 
reached the Square that a battle 
had been fought the day before, and 
in the evening a large number of citi- 
zens assembled at the store of Thomas 
Bartlett. On the 21st, at 4 o'clock, a 
company of nearly one hundred men 
commenced their march for Boston, 
being armed and equipped as best they 
could at such short notice. 

Some say- that Joseph Cilley was the 
leader of this band of heroes, but others 
say Dr. Henry Dearborn was captain, and 
probably he was, as he had been drill- 
master all winter, and was captain of the 
company after they arrived in Cam- 
bridge. They marched on foot all night, 
and arrived in Medford at eight o'clock 
on the morning of the 2 2d, some of the 
company having traveled, on foot, more 
than eighty miles since the previous 
noon, and over roads which were far 
from being in the best condition for 
rapid traveling. 

I have searched records a great deal 
and inquired of the "oldest inhabitant," 
whenever i could find him, that I might 
secure a complete list of the men who 
constituted this company, but of the 
hundred I can only give the following 
names with certainty. If any reader of 
this article can add a name he will do 
me a great favor by forwarding it to me : 

Dr. Henry Dearborn, Joseph Cilley, 
Jr., Thomas Bartlett, Henry Butler, 
Zephaniah Butler, John Simpson, Na- 
thaniel Batchelder, Daniel Moore, 
Peter Thurston, Maj. Andrew McClary, 
Benjamin Johnson, Cutting Cilley, 
Joseph Jackson, Andrew Neally, Sam- 



uel Johnson. Robert Morrison, William 
Woolis, Eliphlet Taylor, William Blake, 
Nathaniel Twombly 3 Simon Batchelder, 
Abraham Batchelder, Simon Marston, 
Moses Gilman, William Simpson, John 
Nealey, and Samuel Sias. Let us 
briefly glance at the record of sone of 
these men in the years that came after. 
Henry Dearborn was born in Hamp- 

ton, Feb. 

He studied medi- 

cine and settled at Nottingham Square as 1772. He married Mary 
D. Bartlett, daughter of Israel, and 
sister of Thomas Bartlett of Notting- 
ham. He was always fond of military 
affairs, and is said to have been a skill- 
ful drill-master and well posted in the 
tactics in use previous to the Revolu- 
tion. He fought with his company at 
the battle of Bunker Hill. In 'the 
September following, he joined Arnold's 
expedition to Quebec, accompanied by 
these Nottingham men. — James Bev- 
erly, John P. Hilton, Samuel Sias and 
Moses Gilman. They marched up the 
Kenebec river, through the wilds of 
Maine and Canada. In the assault 
upon that city, Captain Dearborn 
was taken prisoner. Peter Livias, the 
Tory councilor at Quebec, influenced 
the authorities to parole and send him 
home, on condition that Dearborn 
should forward his wife and children to 
him from Portsmonth to Quebec, which 
was done as agreed. In April, 1777, 
Capt. Dearborn was appointed Major 
in Scammel's regiment. He was in the 
battles of Stillwater and Saratoga and 
fought with such bravery, having com- 
mand of a distinct corps, as to win the 
special commendation of Gen. Gates. 
In 1778, he was in the battle of Mon- 
mouth, with Col. Cilley acting as Lieut. 
Col., and helped retrieve Lee's disgrace- 
ful retreat. He was with Gen. Sullivan 
in his expedition against the Indians, in 
1779, and was at Yorktown at the sur- 
render, of Cornwallis in 1781. Upon 
the death of Scammel, the gallant Col- 
onel of the Third N. H. Reg., at the hands 
of a barbarous foe, Dearborn was made 
Colonel and held that position to the 
end of the war. After the war, he set- 
tled in Maine, where he was Marshal 
by appointment of Washington. He 

was two terms a member of Congress ; 
Sec'y of War under Jefferson from 
1 80 1 to 1800 ; collector of the port of 
Boston between 1809-12 ; senior Maj„ 
General in U. S. Army. 181 2-13, and 
captured York in Canada, and Fort 
George, at the mouth of Niagara. He 
was recalled by the President, July 6, 
1S13, and put in command of the mil- 
itary district of N. Y. City, which recall 
was, no doubt, a great mistake. In 
1S22 he was appointed Minister Plen- 
ipotentiary to Portugal ; recalled in 
1S24, at his own request : died at Rox- 
bury, Mass. June 6, 1S29. General 
Dearborn was a man of large size, gen- 
tlemanly deportment, and one .of the 
bravest and most gallant men of his 

Joseph Cilley, son of Capt. Joseph 
Cilley of Nottingham, was born in 
1734; died 1799. He was engaged 
in the attack upon Fort William and 
Mary, in 1774; appointed Major in 
Col. Poor's regiment by the Assembly 
of N. H. in 1775 ; he was not present 
in the battle of Bunker Hill, as his reg- 
iment was engaged in home defence. 
He was made Lieut. Col. in 1776. and 
April 2, 1777, was appointed Colonel 
of the 1st. N. H. Reg. of three years' 
men, in place of Col. Stark, resigned. 
He fought his regiment bravely at Be- 
mis's Heights, near Saratoga ; and two 
weeks later was among the bravest of 
the brave, when Burgoyne made his 
final attack before surrendering his en- 
tire army of six thousand men. So 
fierce was the battle, that a single can- 
non was taken and retaken five times ; 
finally, Col. Cilley leaped upon it, waved 
his sword, and "dedicating the gun 
to the American cause," opened it up- 
on the enemy with their own ammuni- 
tion. He was with Washington's army 
at Valley Forge, 1777-8; was at the 
storming of Stony Point ; at Monmouth 
he was one of the heroes in retrieving 
Gen. Lee's retreat ; was at the surren- 
der of Cornwallis at Yorktown. and in 
other hard-fought battles of the Revo- 
lution. After the war he was Major- 
General of the 1 st Div. N. H. militia, 
and as such headed the troops which 
quelled the insurrection at Exeter in 



17S6. with his own hand arresting the 
leader in the midst of his armed follow- 
ers. Gen. Cilley was a man of great 
energy and industry, of stFCH&g passkua; 
yet generous and humane. He was 
repeatedly elected representative, sena- 
tor and councillor. 

Thomas Bartlett was born Oct. 22, 
1745 ; married Sarah, daughter of Gen. 
Joseph Cilley ; was town-clerk twenty- 
six years ; selectman thirty years ; was 
the first representative from Nottingham 
to the General Court in 17S4 ; was one 
of the Committee of Safety which man- 
aged the colonial affairs of New Hamp- 
shire during part of the Revolution : was 
captain of the 5th company of " six 
weeks" men at Winter Hill in 1775; 
was Lieut. Col. in Col. Oilman's regi- 
ment, in 1776; Lieut. Col. in Col. 
Whipple's regiment at Rhode Island, 
in 177S; also was Lieut. Colonel un- 
der Stark at the capture of Burgoyne. 
In 17S0 he was Colonel of a regiment 
at West Point, when Arnold betrayed 
that fort. In 1790 he was appointed 
Justice of the Court of Common Pleas, 
and retained that office till his death in 
1805. He was Major-General of first 
division of New Hampshire militia 
from 1799 to 1805, in which office he 
was preceded by Gen. Joseph Cilley, 
and followed by Gen. Henry Butler. 

Henry Butler was a son of Rev. Benja- 
min Butler, the first settled minister in 
Nottingham, and was born April 27, 
1754. He was captain of a company 
in Col. Thomas Bartlett's regiment at 
West Point, in 17S0. He held many 
town and state offices ; was the first 
postmaster in Nottingham, when Gid- 
eon Granger was Postmaster-General ; 
and was Major-General of the first di- 
vision of New Hampshire militia from 
1805, for several years. 

Zephaniah Butler, brother to Rev. 
Benjamin, was a school teacher in Not- 
tingham for many years preceding the 
Revolution, and was one of Col. Cilley's 
staff officers during several campaigns. 
He married a sister of Col. Cilley ; Gen. 
B. F. Buttler, whom everybody knows, 
is his grandson, he being son of Capt. 
John Butler of Deerfield, who was son 
of Zephaniah. 

Cutting Cilley. brother of Col. Jo- 
seph Cilley, was born in 1 73S. and died 
in 1S25 ; he held many town offices, 
and was eaptain 0: a company in one 
of the New Hampshire regiments dur- 
ing the Revolution. 

John Simpson, bornin 1 74S. and d\ ing 
in 1 8 10, is said to have been the man 
who fired the first gun at the battle of 
Bunker Hill. In 1 7 78, he was lieutenant 
in Capt. Simon Marston's company, 
Col. Peabody's regiment ; and was sub- 
sequently promoted to ma; or. His 
brother, Robert, who also served in the 
Revolutionary army, is the great grand- 
father of General Ulysses Simpson 

Nathaniel Batchelder, woo was a 
brother-in-law of Col. Cilley. fought 
in the battle of Bunker Hill, under 
Capt. Dearborn, and was adjutant in 
Col. Drake's regiment, which did brave 
service in the battle of Stillwa-er, Sara- 
toga, and the surrender of Burgoyne. 
He died of fever at Valley Forge, 
March 2S, 17 78. 

Daniel Moore kept the firs: tavern at 
Deerfield Parade : fought a: Bunker 
Hill and in subsequent ban'.es ; was 
captain in Col. Stark's regiment, and 
did valiant service during the war. 

Andrew McClary was from Epsom 
and belonged to a family disringuished 
for its military men. He was plowing 
in his field on the 20th of April, 1775, 
when he heard a horn blon\ which, on 
the instant, he knew was the tocsin of 
war ; he left his plow in the furrow, and 
after the speediest preparation. hastened 
to Deerfield Parade and thence to Not- 
tingham Square, where he joined Capt. 
Dearborn's company. After they ar- 
rived in Cambridge he was active in 
helping organize the New Hampshire 
men into companies and was himself 
appointed major in Col. S:ark"s regi- 
ment. He fought with his regiment 
at Bunker Hill, and was killed after the 
battle, in attempting to have -another 
shot at the enemy." 

Robert Morrison was born and lived 
on the Square ; he was a member of 
Dr. Dearborn's company, which drilled 
during the winter of 1774-5. and a 
private in Capt. Dearborn's company 



in the battle of Bunker Hill. In the 
September following he was bearer of 
dispatches from Washington to the 
Committee of Safety in New Hampshire; 

by whom he was treated with distin- 
guished honors. In 1777 he was 
a private in Col. Stark's regiment, and 
fought bravely in all the battles till the 
surrender of Burgoyne. His son, . 
Robert Morrison, Esq., resides in North- 
wood at the present time. 

Joseph Jackson was sergeant in Capt. 
* Dearborn's company at Bunker Hill, 
afterwards served in several campaigns 
and was captain of a company. 

Samuel Johnson was not in the Bunker 
Hill fight, but was in die campaign of 
1777, at Bennington, Stillwater and 
Saratoga, and took an active part under 
a commission which gave him the rank 
of colonel. He was one of the first 
settlers of Northwood at the Narrows, 
and was one of the selectmen of the 
town for fifteen years. 

Simon Marston was from Deerfield, 
having settled on the Longfellow farm 
in 1 763 : he lived in the garrison house, 
erected by Jonathan Longfellow. He 
was sowing wheat when the courier, 
shouting the news of the battle of Lex- 
ington, rode past the field where he was 
at work. Marston left the measure, 
from which he was sowing, rushed to 
the house, filled his knapsack with pork 
and other necessaries, seized his - gun, 
and hurried down to the Square. He 
acted in the capacity of an officer in 
Col. Reed's regiment at Bunker Hill ; 
was an ofticer under Lieut. Col. Senter ; 
was captain of 1st Co. Col. Peabody's 
regiment ; was afterwards commissioned 
major and fought at Bennington, Still- 
water and Saratoga. He was a brave 
man in war and energetic in peace. 
The others named, although they held 
no office of rank, were no less brave 
and faithful in performing perilous du- 
ties, and deserve to have their names 
recorded where they will never be for- 

After the Nottingham men arrived in 
Cambridge, and saw there was no danger 
of another attack immediatly by the 
troops in Boston, several returned home 
and commenced more thorough prepara- 

tion for the coming conflict, but Dr. Dear- 
born and most of the men remained- 
and were organized into a company, 
and I )e:m>orn was eJ&eted captain the 
company became a part of Col. Stark's 
regiment and was stationed at Medford. 
whence they marched on the 1 7th of 
Tune and participated in the glories * 
of "Breed's Hill." Captain Dear- 
bom's company was No. 8, but he 
marched from Medford to the " Rail- 
fence," by the side of Col. Stark. 

The following list of men comprising 
this company is no doubt correct, as it 
was furnished by Judge Nesmith for 
Cogswell's " History of Nottingham. 
Deerneld and Northwood," and the 
Judge is one of the best authorities in 
the State in such matters. The men 
were nearly all fron old Nottingham : 
Captain, Henry Dearborn, Nottingham. 
1 st Lieut., Amos Morrill, Epsom. 
2d " Michael McClary, Epsom. 
1 st Sergt., Jona. Clarke, Nottingham. 
2d " And. McGaffey, Epsom. 
3d " Jos. Jackson, Nottingham. 
1st Corp., Jonah Moody, 
2d " ' Andrew Field, 
3d " Tona. Oilman, Deerfield. 
4th " And. Bickford, 

Privates. — Simon Dearborn, Gideon 
Glidden, James Garland, John Harvey, 
David Mudgett (of Gilmanton), Simon 
Sanborn, Robt. Morrison, John R :n- 
nels, John Neally, Joseph Place, At rim 
Pettengale, Andrew Nealley, Perer 
Severance, John Wallace, Theop. Cass 
(of. Epsom), Israel Clifford. Nathaniel 
Batchelder (of Deerfield), Jacob Mor- 
rill, John Simpson, John Wallace. Jr., 
Neal McGaffey (of Epsom). Jonah 
Libbey, Moses Locke, Francis Locke, 
Zebulon Marsh, ' Solomon M . ~y, 
Chas. Whitcher, Marsh Whitten, Noah 
Sinclair (drummer), James Randell 
(fifer), Nich. Brown, Benj. Berry {of 
Epsom), John Casey, Jona. Cram (of 
Deerfield), Jeremiah Conner. Elisha 
Hutchinson, Dudley Hutchinson. Benj. 
Judkins, Josh. Wells, Jere. Dowe. Jona. 
Dowe, John Dwyer, David Page. Jr., 
Beniah Libbey, William Rowell, Wey- 
mouth Wallace (of Epsom), Thomas 
Walsh and William McCrellis (of 




[From sketch of Lieut. Henry W. Baker, in Coffin's History of Boscawes .7 

The command had been entrusted 
to Gen. Trueman H. Seymour, who de- 
termined to make an assault. He 
knew nothing of the construction of 
Ft. Wagner. No information of the 
impediments to be overcome had 
reached him. Col. Putnam of the 7th, 
commanding the second brigade, op- 
posed the contemplated movement. 

" I do not think that we can take the 
fort, " he said ; and when Gen. Sey- 
mour reiterated his determination to 
make the attempt, Col. Putnam said, 
"We shall go like a flock of sheep. " 

The sun had set, and the twilight 
faded. The soldiers were ordered to 
remove the caps from the nipples of 
their rifles, and were told that they 
must depend upon the bayonet alone. 
In the 1 ooth N. Y.. which formed be- 
hind the 7th, this order was neglected. 

In the darkness the assaulting col- 
umn moved forward. The iron-clads, 
and the Union batteries opened a heavy 
fire, which was continued till the col- 
umn was so near that further firing 
would endanger it, when, at a signal, 
all the Union batteries became silent. 
In an instant Ft. Wagner • was aflame. 
Its heavy siege guns, howitzers, and 
forty-two pounder carronades burst 
forth, pouring a stream of shot and 
shell into the advancing troops. And 
now, in addition, the parapet of the 
fort swarmed with men, who, through 
the terrible cannonade of the day had 
been lying securely beneath the bomb 
proofs. Mingled with the roar of the 
cannon were their volleys of musketry. 

The first brigade had the advance. 
Its ranks went down like grass before 
the mower. Some of the soldiers fled, 
panic stricken. The second brigade, 
led by the 7th N. H., pressed on and 
filled the decimated ranks. Suddenly 
they found themselves confronted by a 
ditch fifty feet wide and ten feet deep, 
with four feet of water flowing into it. 
Only at the south-eastern angle was it 

dry. It was enfiladed by howitzers. In- 
to the ditch leaped the soldiers. Grape 
and canister mo T >ved them down, but 
others crowded on. The ;:h N. H., 
led by Lt. Col. Joseph C. Abbott, 
made its way unfalteringly into the 
ditch, through it, and up the slope of % 
the parapet. Cannon and musketry 
blazed in their faces ; and now there 
was a flash behind them — die 100th 
N. Y., not having removed dieir caps, 
were firing into the dark mass, not 
knowing who was friend, who foe. All 
was confusion. All order disappeared. 
In the darkness no one coul i be recog- 
nized. Amid the groans ofthe wound- 
ed, the shouting of officers, the rattle 
of rifles, the roar ot cannon. :he burst- 
ing of shells, it was impossible to main- 
tain discipline. Col. Putnam, a few of 
his subordinates, and one or two hun- 
dred men entered the fort. The en- 
emy charged, bat were driven back. 
Col. Putnam was killed : one officer 
after another went down. The reserve, 
which should have rushed up* did not 
come. The assault had lost its force. 
Like sheep the Union soldiers fled as 
best they could through the devastating 
fire, leaving a ghastly heap of dead and 
wounded in the ditch, and on the para- 
pet of the fort. Among the biiied was 
Henry W. Baker. By his side were 
Dexter Pritchard, Liberty G. Ray- 
mond, and Alexander F. Stevens, from 
Boscawen, and of his comnanv, also 

Among the wounded was Samuel 
McEvely, and among the prisoners was 
John Clancy, who died in prison at 

In his first battle, Lieut. Baker gave 
his life to his country. Those who 
served under him speak of him with af- 
fection. He was cool and brave, and 
ever mindful of his duty. He was 
buried where he fell, with his com- 
mander, Col. Putnam, and his subordi- 
nates, Pritchard, Raymond, and Stevens . 

UPWARD. 209 



On the wings of my faith I aspire 

God ! to rise higher and higher, 
And to quaff of the scinctillant springs 

That flow all exhausiless from Thee, 
Who art fountain, and haven, and sea, 
And canst satisfy all who aspire. 

1 mount and I mount through the air, 
Borne up by the breath of my prayer, 

Through waves of the sunshine of love ; 
Thy presence, O God ! is the light, 
Thou givest my spirit its flight. 

Thou rulest below and above. 

I live in the glories of God, 
I know that His merciful rod 

Extends o'er a sorrowful world ; 
I see how His Providence glows 
With sweet hues of azure and rose, 

His banner, the heavens unfurled. 

The universe sings to my soul, 

And I join with my voice in the whole, 

And God is the spirit of Law ; 
The Power of blessing and blight, 
The Giver of morning and night, 

Whose judgments are all without flaw. 

Behold ! I am given to see 

That the darkness and sorrow that be, 

Lie low and cling closely to earth ; 
But the light of God's glory descends, 
And the might of His justice attends 

The souls that are weeping in dearth. 

A Hand that is brilliant with truth, 
And gentle indeed in its ruth, 

Shall point out the way and defend, 
And the gloom of each fearful abyss, 
The serpents that threaten and hiss, 

Shall be conquered and slain to amend. 






The events I am about to describe 
took place at a critical period of k% the 
war to keep the Union whole," and 
cover that date in the career of the 
army of the Potomac beginning with 
Hooker's flank movement against Lee, 
entrenched on the heights of Fredericks- 
burg, and ending with the disastrous re- 
pulse which attended that finely plan- 
ned, yet poorly executed, and ill-starred 
campaign. Of course, I am not writ- 
ing history, except in a small way ; nor 
do I essay to describe in detail or with 
accuracy the events in question. My 
purpose is to give my own observations 
and experiences, mainly from memory, 
reinforced by a few scraps and half- il- 
legible memoranda saved from the ac- 
cidents by flood and field. 

I was a participant in many of the 
earlier battles fought by the army of 
the Potomac ; but my opportunities 
for acquiring accurate information 
touching the general aspects of the 
field were necessarily limited to that 
part of it within my own immediate 
range ofvision, and even here — so rigid- 
ly did our commanders aim to reduce 
us to mere automatons — we were often 
in the dark as to the meaning of this or 
that movement. I strove hard to mas- 
ter the situation, but not until the war 
closed and the reports of commanders 
were given to the public, did I have 
other than a very indefinite conception 
of much that transpired about me. 
Why we made this or that change of 
front ; why we were kept for hours in 
line of battle beneath a broiling sun 
with no enemy in sight ; why we were 
rushed from one point to another in an 
apparently hap-hazard manner, endur- 
ing fatigue and hunger and subsisting 
upon wormy "hardtack ;" why we were 

pushed against impregnable positions, 
when a flank movement seemed to our 
inexperienced eyes the proper thing to 
do — now lighting, now building cordu- 
roy roads, digging rifle-pits or support- 
ing batteries in our rear, which did 
more execution upon us, by reason of 
defective ammunition, than upon the en- 
emy — concerning all these points, and 
many more we were anxious to be in- 
formed, but not one atom of informa- 
tion could we set. 

"Ours not to inquire why, 
Ours but to do and die."' 

W'as this-reticence in pursuance of the 
mistaken theory that machine soldiers 
are best? Or was it because "some one 
had blundered, " and ignorance or in- 
capacity, or something still worse, could 
be the more easily concealed ? What- 
ever the reason, the fact remains that 
to the rank and file much of the cam- 
paigning done up to 1S63-64 seemed 
to them worse than needless ; — and 
looking back over that period with the 
light of history thrown upon it, I am 
not prepared to say the rank and file 
were mistaken in their estimate. I 
was impressed then, and the impres- 
sion has never been effaced, that the 
reticence observed toward the men in 
the ranks touching what was going on 
about them, was a grievous error on 
the part of our commanders. It is a 
question, certainly, whether it would 
not have been better to have kept the 
"boys" informed of the real military 
situation and of what they were ex- 
pected to achieve. The belief that much 
of the hardship endured was the re- 
sult of blundering generals, or, worse, of 
criminal indifference, did much to unman 
our soldiers and cause them to lose 
faith and hope. Our volunteers were not 


machine soldiers, as some of the West 
Pointers seemed to presume, but patri- 
otic, thinking and observing men who 
could fight best when they fought un- 
derstandingly. I am told that the 
rebel commanders pursued a different 
policy, and although their soldiers were 
mentally inferior to ours, kept them 
apprized of the general situation and 
of what they must do to accomplish the 
end sought. Who shall say how many 
of the confederate victories may be ac- 
credited to this fact, if it is a fact ? But 
our commanders, instead of trusting 
their men, either kept them in utter ig- 
norance of movements or focTlishlv de- 
ceived them. How well I remember 
at the battle of Gaines's Hill, where 
Jackson thrashed Porter so soundly, 
and Sykes's regulars failed to stand their 
ground, that the story was industriously 
circulated along the thinned but unbrok- 
en ranks of Bartlett's Brigade, " McClel- 
lan's in Richmond, boys. One more 
effort and the day is ours !" And Mea- 
gher's Irish Brigade, hastening to our 
relief on the run, took up the cry and 
put on so determined a front that Jack- 
son's veterans halted and reformed, 
giving our officers time to re-establish 
their broken lines and hold their 
ground until night came down and af- 
forded them an opportunity to with- 
draw to the left bank of the Chicka- 
hominy, — not to enter Richmond, but 
to begin that celebrated "flank move- 
ment" which ended at Harrison's 
Landing. Again, at second Bull Run, 
when, after dawdling along all day on 
the road from Alexandria to Centre- 
ville, with the sounds of conflict in our 
front (making a long two hours' arest at 
Annandale, and then marching at full 
speed in a hot sun), we reached Cen- 
treville, we were told that Pope had 
whipped Jackson, and that Lee with 
his whole army was in full retreat. But 
when we reached Bull Run, " Linden 
saw another sight. " Heavens, what a 
stampede ! McDowell's and Sigel's 
corps in disastrous retreat, — cavalry, ar- 
tillery, infantry, ammunition and bag- 
gage wagons in one confused,' strug- 
gling mass, intent upon reaching the 
heights of Centreville. Our corps 

(Franklin's, 6th) had just halted to rest, 
as the stragglers came into view. De- 
ploying, we stopped the rout, and end- 
ed die retreat, bei/mg the infantry 
stragglers, we placed them in our own 
ranks until our brigade swelled to twice 
its usual size. Night closed in, and we 
were marched to the front across Cub 
Run, and ordered to hold our position 
at all hazards. In that march every 
straggler deserted ! Poof fellows, who 
could blame them? Had they been 
killed then and there who could have 
accounted for them? Most of them re- 
turned to their own regiments and there- 
after did good service no doubt. Pan- 
ics are liable to seize upon the best ,of 
troops. I cite these instances as par- 
tial corroboration of my point. What 
wonder if our troops came to distrust 
all reports and to depend only upon 
established facts. But perhaps our 
commanders were right in concealing 
information from the army in general, 
and Moore may have hit the nail on the 
head when he wrote : 

"A captain has been known to think, 
Even colonels have been heard to reason; 
And reasoners whether clad in pink, 
Or red or blue, are on the brink, 
Nine cases out of ten — of treason." 

At any rate they conducted the war 
in harmony with such a belief. 

One battle only did I witness from 
the vantage ground of. a non-combat- 
ant, the first Fredericksburg fight, and 
I found it vastly more interesting and 
conducive to personal ease and safety. 
if less glorious. But this is not what I 
started out to tell the readers of this 
Magazine. I am to relate my experience 
during that memorable episode referred 
to in my opening paragraph. L must 
say at the outset that it was an exceed- 
ingly checkered episode, so far as my 
memory serves me, for within the time 
outlined I ran the gamut of a soldier's 
emotions — anxiety, uncertainty, fear, 
hope, the thrill of victory succeeded all 
too quickly by the blackest despair ; 
for success was followed by repulse, 
and from an elated victor I became al- 
most in a twinkling, a captive in the 
hands of as ragged and as dirty a lot of 
Johnny Rebs as ever fought with a 
courage worthy of a better cause, — a 



part of Wilcox's Alabama brigade, 
McLaw's division. But I must not an- 

During the winter of 1862-63, our 
brigade lay encamped near White Oak 
church, a locality about equi-distant, if 
my memory serves me, between Fal- 
mouth on the Rhappahannock and 
Belle Plain on the Potomac. It had 
had ample time to recuperate from the 
fatigue of the '"mud march," as Burn- 
side's second futile attempt to dislodge 
Lee from his intrenchments about 
Fredericksburg, was facetiously termed, 
and as spring opened the routine of 
life in cantonment was relieved by pa- 
rades, reviews, inspections, .drills, and. 
occasionally, target practice. Mean- 
time Hooker had superceded Burn- 
side in chief command, and a new and 
more vigorous life had been infused in- 
to all branches of the service. This 
was particularly true of the cavalry, 
which had fallen into general disfavor. 
Under Hooker's discipline it became 
very effective. The high-sounding- 
grand divisions had been broken up, 
and the over-cautious, phlegmatic 
Franklin, relieved. With other changes, 
came Sedgwick to the command of our 
corps — a great improvement in some 
respects on Franklin. The cool and 
sagacious Slocum, so long at the head 
of the red-cross division, had been* pro- 
moted to the command of a corps, and 
Gen. Brooks, as brave, perhaps, but a 
far less skilful soldier, had succeeded 
him, having been promoted from the 
Vermont brigade. Gen. Joe Bartlett 
of New York, commanded our brigade 
— a fine officer, and a lion in battle. A 
brave man, too, was our Colonel, but 
deficient in tactical skill. He might 
not "set a squadron in the field," but 
he could face the enemy's line of bat- 
tle without flinching. In action he was 
the embodiment of pluck, and at such 
times he looked as if he might be the 

" Colonel 

"Who galloped through the white infernal powder 

in continental days. But he did not 
appear to advantage on parade, being 
undersized and awkward gaited, with a 
shrill, piercing voice, not unlike that of 

the late Isaac O. Barnes, or the irre- 
pressible Mel. Weston, and totally in- 
different to all the niceities of drill 5 ., 
pleasing to the holiday soldier. On 
one occasion he forgot his place at a 
Brigade dress parade, and was then 
and there rebuked sharply by the gen- 
eral. Meeting the latter at headquar- 
ters the same evening, where a " recep- 
tion " to the officers of the brigade was 
in full career and good fellowship, aid- 
ed by copious draughts of " commissa- 
ry," abounded, the Colonel extended 
his hand and piped out in a high key 
which attracted the attention of all 
present: "Gineral, I'm not much at 
drill I confess, but I've got a hell-fired 
stomach for a fight ! " 

On the morning of the 2Sth of April, 
1863, our regiment was ordered on 
picket duty, but scarcely had we re- 
lieved the old picket guard when or- 
ders came to return to camp, strike 
tents, and prepare to move at once in 
heavy marching order.- This meant 
work, but was an agreeable change. I 
had only joined my regiment the day 
previous, after a brief leave of absence, 
and was resplendent in a new uniform, 
sword, etc. Of course I packed the 
uniform away, and left it in care of the 
sutler, while I donned a knit blouse, 
and with a due regard for sharpshoot- 
ers of which the Confederacy had, as it 
always seemed to me when on the 
skirmish line, more than its share, put 
myself in condition for serious work, 
having nothing in the way of wearing 
apparel save my side-arms to indicate 
military rank. Meantime a great 
change had been effected in our winter 
quarters. The tents had been removed 
from the log huts to which they had 
served as roofs and windows, and now 
the bare interiors, with the debris 
strewn about, and broken chimneys and 
blackened walls alone remained. A 
more dismal or melancholy sight than a 
deserted cantonment cannot be con- 
ceived. "Warm work ahead, boys," 
gaily and cheerily remarked our jovial, 
stout-hearted adjutant, as he rode up 
to the head of the regiment. It proved 
to be particularly hot for him, for he 
received a wound in his head, in the 



charge on Marye's Heights, that he 
will carry to his grave, and which end- 
ed his military career, but not his use- 
fulness ; for he is now a popular cler- 
gyman, a true soldier of the cross, ' t set- 
tled in Philadelphia, I believe. Our 
progress was slow, and darkness inter- 
vened just as we reached a ravine lead- 
• ing down to the narrow valley which 
skirts the river on that side. We biv- 
ouacked in our tracks, not being al- 
lowed to kindle fires. Back over the 
route we had come could be heard the 
rumble of artillery wagons and the 
tramp, tramp, of marching columns. 
In front, silence reigned. Orders are 
issued in a low tone ; and that stern 
composure which soldiers assume when 
about to encounter the enemy was 
apparent in the bearing of all. The 
officers gather around their adjutant, 
who is a favorite at brigade and divi- 
sion headquarters, to learn his views 
touching the movement. He thinks 
we are in for a fight, and gives his opin- 
ion as to Hooker's intentions. He is 
sanguine of success. — We have hardly 
closed our eyes in sleep, when some 
one calls out in a voice seemingly loud 
enough for the rebel pickets to hear, 
" Where is Colonel Blank?" "Here, 
sir, " responds that officer, rubbing his 
eyes. "What's wanted?" "Gen. B. 
directs me to say that you are to 
march your regiment to the bank of the 
river, form in line of battle, and await 
further orders. You are to move ex- 
peditiously, with as little noise as possi- 
ble, following the pontoons." The or- 
der is obeyed ; the regiment marching 
away in almost spectral silence. De- 
bouching from the ravine, the darkness 
deepens, for a dense fog hangs over the 
valley of the Rhappahannock like a 
pall. We file past the pontoon train, 
from which the engineer corps are de- 
taching the boats, silently and with 
all the celerity possible — and stand up- 
on the river's brink. In our rear* come 
other regiments, until our whole brigade 
is closed in line five regiments deep. — It 
was a critical time. I recall it well. 
The silence was almost oppressive ; or- 
ders were given in low tones, and noth- 
ing but the rattle of accoutrements 

broke the silence. The fog resembled 
a mirage. Objects a little way off took 
on gigantic proportions. I remember 
that a poiuoon boat, 1 mwm on stout 
shoulders to the river's brink, resem- 
bled the immense hulk 01 a ship as it 
loomed into view, while at the distance 
of a few feet men took on colossal di- 
mensions. Meantime we are tolled off 
in detachments to occupy the pon- 
toons, along with the engineers who 
are to do the navigation, and our or- 
ders are to form instantly on reaching 
the other shore, dash forward and cap- 
ture the enemy's picket line, or what- 
ever force may be there to oppose us. 
At length there are sounds of commo- 
tion on the other side. The Johnnies 
suspect something. Splash ! goes a 
pontoon into the water, followed by a 
deep curse from the officer in charge, 
brave old Gen. Benham, who cannot 
restrain his rage over the carelessness 
of his men. Meanwhile the fog has been 
gradually rising, and the gray of dawn 
appears. More stir on the other side, a 
rattling of equipments, hurried com- 
mands — then a sharp challenge, (some 
of our scouts are nearly over) , followed 
by a single musket discharge, then a vol- 
ley, and the whistle of bullets. Instinc- 
tively we do them low obeisance ; the 
lines waver for an instant, then firm- 
ness and silence. So heavy a fire was 
not anticipated. It told of a large re- 
serve which must have been brought up 
in expectation of an attack. All hope 
of a surprise was over. "Will the pon- 
toons never be launched?" Yes, Ben- 
ham has done his duty, and into them 
we scramble and push off, each boat for 
itself. The stream is narrow at this 
point, but we are not swift enough to 
check another volley, which being bet- 
ter directed than the first, killed and 
wounded a number of our boys in the 
boats. Almost at the same instant our 
pontoon touches the shore. There is a 
rush, a charge, a brief struggle, and that 
picket guard is hors du combat. Quick- 
ly deploying on the bank we advance, 
but the enemy retires more quickly ; 
— and we have established a firm foot- 
hold, the pontoon bridge is laid, and 
the whole corps is streaming across as 



the morning sun rises above the hori- 
zon. The fog still clings, however, to 
the rising ground on which Franklin 
fought at the first battle of Fredericks- 
burg, and we move with due caution, 
skirmishers well out, not knowing what 
sort of a reception Stonewall Jackson, 
whose corps is known to occupy the 
wooded heights beyond, may have in 
store for us. But no serious opposition 
is offered after the affair of the pickets, 
and gradually we occupy most of the 
ground previously held by the centre of 
Franklin's grand division. The fog 
lifts at last, and the sight revealed is a 
picturesque one. Before us, a level 
plain, extending on the right to the sub- 
urbs of Fredericksburg, and on the 
left, cut with ravines and hillocks some- 
what, for a long distance. Back of us, 
the river ; fronting, on either hand, the 
plain ending in a range of wooded hills, 
semicircular in shape, and dotted with 
fortifications. The enemy's picket line 
is well out upon the plain but touching 
•the river above us near the city. Ex- 
tending our left it soon came in con- 
tact with Reynolds' corps, which had 
effected a crossing a mile or two lower 
down, after a sharp artillery fight in 
which the enemy showed superior met- 
al, but was obliged to retire after the 
infantry got over. Midway from the 
river to the range of hills, and parallel 
with the former, is a deep ravine where 
partial shelter from the concentric fire 
from the artillery posted on Marye's 
Heights on the right and on the hills 
in front, was afforded Franklin's troops 
in the previous battle. A few artillery 
shots are fired, soon after establishing 
our lines, and then all becomes quiet. 
What does this inaction portend ? Evi- 
dently, Lee is acting on the defensive, 
and waiting for the development of 
Hooker's strategy. He does not have 
long to wait. Before us is the whole, 
rebel army. Will it swoop down upon 
us before Hooker can develop his left 
and crush us ? This is the conundrum 
with which we wrestle, as the hours wear 
away, varying it with a conjecture as to 
whether we shall be ordered to assault 
the enemy, in his chosen position, 
against which Burnside had thrown the 

flower of his army only to be hurled 
back discomfited. Another artillery 
duel between Reynolds and Jackson, 
Kirei in the day rinses the fighting, and 
a night of repose follows. The suc- 
ceeding day proved to be one of quiet, 
also, but there was a constant move- 
ment of troops in our rear on the 
heights of Falmouth, the line of march 
being directly up river. 

4i You see them on their winding way, 
About their ranks the sunbeaias play." 

That night our regiment wer.t on pick- 
et. Never shall I forget it. Strict orders 
had been received, prohibit:::.: fires, or 
conversation above a whisper, and requir- 
ing the most vigilant watchfulness to pre- 
vent surprise, as the enemy in heavy force 
was directly in our front. Our eyes 
were kept constantly on the rebel sen- 
tinels moving ghost-like upon their 
beats. A dense fog settled down, cold 
and damp. The hours seemed leaden. 
The suspense became intense, unbeara- 
ble. Suddenly a tremor sweeps along 
the line. Our boys are doubly alert. 
What does it mean? A message comes 
down the front line — "The enemy are 
advancing. Hold your ground until 
the reserves are formed, then rally up- 
on them !" With muskets firmly grasp- 
ed the Union pickets await the onset. 
A night attack is always dreaded by 
soldiers, and nothing is more trying to 
the nerves of veterans than the expecta- 
tion of a contlict with an unseen foe. 
But our boys do not flinch : they feel 
the responsibility imposed upon them 
and resolve to do their duty. Minutes 
go by, and still no advance, although 
the weird line of sentinels has been suc- 
ceeded by a line of battle. Momenta- 
rily we expect to see a sheet of flame 
burst from that compact mass, the com- 
ponents of which are indistinguishable 
in the fog and darkness, although hardly 
six rods distant. But it comes not. 
The mass recedes' and fades out, leav- 
ing the sentinels pacing their posts, and 
we now know that the movement was 
only a reconnoisance. Morning dawns 
at length, and we are relieved without 
firing a shot. As we gain the shelter of 
the ravine near the bank of the river, 
we notice that Reynolds has recrosscd 


with his whole corps and is marching in 
the direction taken by the main army. 
Looking toward the rebel position on 
our left, dark masses of men are seen 
moving over the hills, as if in retreat. 
Here again we have food for specula- 
tion. Has Hooker, whose guns are 
now heard on the right, outflanked the 
enemy? Later on we learned that these 
troops were Stonewall Jackson's rear 
guard, that intrepid commander being 
then in the process of executing that fa- 
mous flank movement which put the 
nth corps to rout and turned, a Union 
success into a Confederate victory, the 
most signal ever achieved by its armies. 
About noon our troops made a demon- 
stration, driving back the enemy's pick- 
ets, and later in the day rifle pits were 
dug under cover of army blankets hung 
up as if to dry — a device so simple as to 
deceive the Confederates, for otherwise, 
being commanded by their guns, it 
could not have been effected without 
serious loss. 

The next day (Saturday, May 2), 
was comparatively quiet, although far 
to the right could be heard the deep, 
yet muffled sound of artillery firing, 
telling that Hooker was engaged. We 
made demonstrations all along our 
front, but did no real fighting. During 
the night, the firing on the right became 
very heavy, — and I was called into line 
at about 2 a. m., to go through ere an- 
other chance to sleep was afforded me, 
the most exciting experiences of my 
life. We were marched . to the front, 
and posted in a ravine. With the fifst 
streaks of dawn came sounds of mus- 
ketry firing on our right. It was the 

Light Division in the streets of Freder- 
we emerge from the ravine and tal 

Marching by the left flank 
e a 

position on the left, the second, and 
third and light divisions of our corps 
extending to the right. As we leave 
the ravine the enemy opens a heavy 
fire upon our devoted regiment, the 
hills on our front and right being aflame 
with the flashes of the "red artillery." 
We advance rapidly, our general lead- 
ing ; our batteries gallop to the rising 
ground, and open on the enemy's guns 
posted near the railroad embankment 

and which are doing the most execution. 
Our guns are splendidly served, and 
soon the rebel battery in front and its 
mfaiui-y suppur-.s are seer makm^; quick 
time for the fortifications in the woods 
at the base of the hill. Now the guns on 
the hills redouble their fire, and the din is 
terrible. Men are falling at every step, 
and so fierce is the concentric artillery 
fire of the Confederates that our batteries 
have to be withdrawn. Not so the infan- 
try. It is our part to keep the 
rebel force in front employed while 
the divisions on our right storm 
Marye's Heights. So we keep steadily, 
on until a ravine is reached running at 
right angles with the one we have left, 
and leading nearly up to the rebel en- 
trenchments. The air is full of scream- 
ing shot and whistling shell, and as we 
near the entrance to the ravine, which 
is filled with a thick undergrowth of 
trees and bushes, our boys are ready 
to insist that at least five hundred rebel 
cannon have the range and are pepper- 
ing us accordingly. Through the hell 
of fire we go, marching by the left flank 
and closing up our ranks with each 
breach, and into the ravine from which 
the enemy's sharpshooters are seen to 
scamper like so many rats, as much to 
escape the range of their own cannon as 
that of our musketry, for we had not as 
yet fired a shot. — Here, by hugging the 
steep sides, we were partially sheltered 
and within half rifle practice of the foe 
posted behind their breastworks at the 
base of the hill. A brisk fusilade was 
kept up, and although we were unsup- 
ported and "in the air" we kept the 
Johnnies so busy that they did not at- 
tempt a sortie. By this time, also, the 
batteries on Marye's Heights, which had 
enfiladed us, had as much as they could 
do nearer home, for Howe and Newton 
had begun their advance. It being 
deemed useless to attempt to do more 
than keep the enemy in our front em- 
ployed, our regiment was withdrawn 
from the ravine and the Parrotts were 
again opened on the position, which we 
had supposed was to be stormed. — 
"The war which for a space did fail," 
now opens furiously on our right, and 
we watch the advance of the light di- 



vision with interest, although our regi- 
ment is still exposed to a galling fire 
from riflemen behind the railroad 

ciHUdiitvljiCiiU inc spcccaCic 

a thrilling one. The 6th corps bat- 
teries were playing upon the heights, 
with might and main, and up the 
steep ascent our brave boys were 
climbing with all speed. Out hearts 
were in our throats as we watched. 
Could the heights be stormed ? Could 
Sedgwick with 10,000 men do what 
Burnside failed to do with ten times 
that number? Our Colonel, who has 
been watching the conflict through his 
field-glass, electrifies us at last by ex- 
claiming, "The heights are ours, boys !" 
"Our flag is there !" Such a cheer as 
went up must have astonished our 
friends just opposite. A rebel brigade, 
which had left the entrenchments near 
our front and was making all speed to 
succor its friends, suddenly halted, 
then taking in the situation turned 
about and ran back again, its pace be- 
ing accelerated by shots from cannon 
just taken. The victory was ours thus 
far, but at what a cost ! It was a brief 
triumph, alas ! for disaster had overtaken 
Hooker, and he was a beaten general 
at that moment. We knew it not, how- 
ever. Contrariwise it was announced 
that Hooker had been even more suc- 
cessful, and that Lee's routed army was in 
rapid retreat on Richmond. Joy filled 
our hearts, even though we mourned the 
death of many brave comrades whose 
last roll call on earth had been answer- 
ed that morning. Hence, when orders 
came for our brigade to fall in and take 
the lead in the pursuit on our side, they 
were obeyed with alacrity, and up and 
over the battle-stained heights we 
marched, munching our hardtack as we 
went, and out upon the Chancellorsville 
pike, driving the enemy before us like 
chaff before the wind. Two miles out, 
a battery opened upon us, but we took 
little notice, pushing our skirmish line 
rapidly forward. It was a fatal dis- 
charge, however, to an officer on 
Brooks' staff, who fell from his horse, 
nearly decapitated by a shell. — One of 
our batteries is hurried to the front and a 
single discharge causes the enemy to re- 

tire on the double quick. We reach Salem 
church, nearly exhausted by our rapid 
marching, hoping for rest. But the 
>\as worst is yet to come. Our skirmish 
line is held at bay. It cannot advance, 
and our brigade is formed for a charge 
— my own regiment, through the negli- 
gence of some one, going into the fight 
in heavy marching order, with knap- 
sacks strung, and blankets strap- 
ped. Meeting a heavy fire of mus- 
ketry at the edge of a piece of 
woods, the brigade halts. But Gen. 
Brooks, who has orders to effect a 
junction with Hooker, and deeming 
the enemy in front to be the same we 
have been driving, orders another ad- 
vance. Into the woods we go to be 
met by a terrific fire. We charge and 
drive the foe from his breastworks, but 
can go no further. Heavily reinforced 
he advances with yells. There is a 
continuous roll of musketry. The 
Pennsylvania regiments on our right 
and left give ground. We are out- 
flanked and enfiladed. Then comes 
the order to fall back. It must be done 
quickly if we would not be entirely cut 
off from the second line. Burdened as 
many of our men are by their knap- 
sacks, and fatigued by the march, they 
can not run. Such is my condition. 
Although with only a blanket to 
carry, I am quite used up physically. 
The double-quick is beyond my powers, 
and with every disposition in the world 
to run I cannot to save my life. Sud- 
denly, one leg refuses to move, and I 
fall. A call to my men is unheard, or 
if heard, unheeded. I try to regain my 
feet, but cannot. My leg seems para- 
lyzed. Am I hit ? wounded ? A brother 
officer sees me ; hears my call for as- 
sistance ; and proffers aid ; helps me to 
my feet, and I stagger along for a few 
paces. Meantime, we have been left 
far in the rear and are between two 
fires. The air is laden with missiles. It 
is madness to proceed, and so we both 
hug the ground. Doubtless our lives 
are saved by this device, but, although 
we had not the faintest idea then that 
such was the case, it involved our cap- 
ture and imprisonment. "The combat 
deepens." The din is awful. Line 



after line of Lee's veterans surges for- 
ward ; they intermingle ; halt, yell, fire ; 
th#fl rr-sh on like a mob. It is not un- 
til they have fairly run over us mat we 
realize our position — that capture is in- 
evitable. Two lines pass us unnoticed, 
when a squad of skirmishers who have 
hung on our flank come up and de- 
mand our surrender. There is no al- 
ternative, and that brand-new blade 
goes into the hands of a rebel sergeant 
whose straight, black hair runs up 
through a rent in his hat like a plume. 
We are taken to the rear amid a rain of 
shot from our batteries, three men 
helping me along and two keeping close 
guard over my companion. They 
seemed in a hurry to get out of range, 
and glad of the opportunity our capture 
afforded them of retiring with eclat from 
the strife. Soon we came upon Gen. 
Wilcox and staff nicely ensconced in a 
position not accessible to Yankee bul- 
lets. He questioned us, but not getting 
satisfactory replies, sent us still further 
to the rear (after his Adjutant-General 
had purchased my sword of the hatless 
sergeant), where we were placed under 
guard near a held hospital. Here I 
found, upon examination, that I was 
not injured, but that my inability to 

walk without help was due to fatigue 
and a slight abrasion on the hip, occa- 
sioned probably by a spent ball. We 
were co urtewa^ treated by o>sr guards 
but could get no food, Stoneman's raid 
having sadly interfered with the rebel 
commissariat. Next day we were taken 
to Spottsylvania court-house where we 
met nearly half of the nth corps and 
learned for the first time the disaster 
that had befallen " Fighting Joe " 
Hooker. Of the kindness of one of 
my captors, Billy Peyton of Mem- 
phis, Tenn., but a member of the 
9th Alabama, and his peculiarities, I 
should like to speak, but this sketch has 
grown on my hands, and I am com- 
pelled to omit an account of my first 
visit to Richmond, introduction to Ma- 
jor Turner, and incarceration in Libby. 
Should this sketch please the readers of 
this Magazine, I may essay another de- 
scribing my prison life, and how near I 
came to being annihilated by a fierce 
Virginia home guard officer who com- 
manded the escort which conducted 
the detatchment of prisoners, of which 
I made one, to the flag of truce boat 
on the James, going by the way of 




At first, worship, both private and 
public, was conducted in the primative 
homes of the settlers of the township. 
On the erection of military posts, or 
forts, such edifices became natural, so- 
cial centres, and worship was conduct- 
ed in one or more of them. Rev. 
James Scales, first minister of the town, 
was ordained in Putney's Fort, in 1757. 
During the ministry of Mr. Scales, pub- 
lic worship was sometimes conducted 

at the Parsonage. The erection of a 
church determined a permanent place 
of public religious services. 

The first meeting-house in Hopkinton 
represented a much larger territorial ex- 
panse of population than any church 
now extant. Denominational contro- 
versies had not divided the ranks of the 
worshipers, nor had local patrons of the 
one church demanded special privi- 
leges of their own. The distance to 
church was long in many cases, and 



the conveyances often only the loco- 
motary means of nature. 

In olden times in this vicinity, though 
people bad the instinct of persoia&l 
adornment the same as now, they often 
lacked the means of gratifying it. Extra 
articles of dress were so rare that peo- 
ple frequently walked to church in their 
daily accustomed garb, or trod the 
Sunday path with a most scrupulous 
care for their extra wardrobe. Women 
sometimes carried the skirts of their 
Sunday dresses on their arms till they 
arrived near or at the church door, 
when they let them fall. The Sunday 
shoes were often carried in the hand 
till the journey to meeting was nearly 
ended, when they were put on for en- 
trance to the sanctuary. Present read- 
ers can comprehend the necessity of 
such care, when they reflect that in the 
olden time the price of a week's work 
of a woman was only equivalent to a 
yard of cloth, or a pair of shoes. 

Church services in the former days 
were long, and savored of dogmatic the- 
ology. The principal prayer was much 
longer than the present average ser- 
mon, and the discourse proportionally 
extended. Such prolonged services 
were conducted in winter, at first, with- 
out the favor of any artificial warmth. 
In contemplating the situation of the 
worshipers in those old wintry days, the 
bleakness of the characteristic meeting- 
house of the times is to be taken into 
account. In the old Baptist church 
was an open aperture in an upper wall, 
where the crows have been known to 
perch while worship was in progress. 
The advent of foot-stoves gave much 
relief to the chilly congregations of 
earlier times, and the introduction of 
extremer experiences of the wintry 
the general heater put an end to the 

The representative minister of the 
olden time was a person of eminent 
scholarly culture and gentlemanly bear- 
ing. A thorough scholar and rhetori- 
cian, his discourses were framed with 
strict regard to the logical sequences of 
his subject. The numerical divisions 
of his theme often carried him among 
units of the second order ; firstly, sec- 

ondly, and thirdly were only prelimina- 
ry to thirteenthly, fourteenthly, and fif- 
teenthly ; the grand category of predi- 
ctions was terminated by a "conclu- 
sion." In his loftier intellectual 
schemes, he sometimes elaborated 
whole volumes of disquisitional matter. 
Rev. Ethan Smith, third minister in the 
town, was the author of several profound 
theological treatises. There was a dig- 
nity and austerity of manner pertaining 
to the characteristic primative clergy- 
man that made him a pattern of per- 
sonified seriousness. His grave de- 
meanor on his parochial rounds, when 
he spoke directly upon the obligations 
of personal religion, made his presence 
in the household a suggestion of pro- 
found respect and awe. He impressed 
his personality upon the receptive so- 
cial element of his parish. The dea- 
cons became only minor pastors, and 
the whole congregation of believers ex- 
pressed in subdued form the character 
of the shepherd of the flock.* 

' The support of a 'Teamed and or- 
thodox minister" was implied in the 
original grant of this township. In the 
strict construction of the text of the 
original compact, "orthodoxy" meant 
Calvinistic Congregationalism. The 
disturbed condition of the early settle-* 
ment prevented the establishment of a 
permanent local pastorate till 1757. 
On the 8th of September of that year, 
it was voted to settle the Rev. James 
Scales, and that he should be ordained 
on the 23d of the following November. 
His salary was to be sixty Spanish 
milled dollars, or their equivalent in 
paper bills, a year. When the town 
became incorporated in 1 765, the formal 
acknowledgment of Mr. Scales as legal 
pastor was renewed, it being the 4th of 
March, and his salary was named at 
£i3> jos- 

♦The austere influence of religion upon 
society in the olden time was attested by 
the legal strictures upon traveling, 
idling, etc., on Sunday, of which conduct 
the tything-men were to take cognizance. 
Tything-nien were chosen in this town as 
late as ls4.'>. when Charles Barton. Sam- 
uel Frazier and Daniel Chase were select- 
ed. The law requiring such choice had 
even then become virtually a dead letter. 



In progress of time different religious 
societies became established in this 
towrtj but the Congregational alone 
drew support from any portion of the 
populace by a direct tax. People were 
taxed for the support of the Congrega- 
tional ministry in this town as late as 
1 810. The warrant for a town meet- 
ing called for the 12th of March. 181 1, 
contained this article : 

"To see what method the town will 
take to raise money for the support of 
the Congregational minister in town the 
ensuing year, how levied, and how di- 
vided between the two meeting-houses. " 

At this time a meeting-house had 
been, for about ten years, in existence at 
Campbell's Corner, in the westerly part 
of the town, and since its erection the 
funds for the support of Congregational 
preaching derived from taxes had been 
divided between the east and west 
meeting-houses, as they were called. 
However, at the town meeting called 
for the above date, it was voted to 
"pass over the article" relating to the 
proposed support of Congregational 
religious services by the town, and we 
think the subject was never taken up 

The minister's tax was never collect- 
ed of any person who acknowledged a 
belief in the religious principles of any 
legalized society, other than the Con- 
gregational. The following vote, 
passed on the 25th of March. 1799, il- 
lustrated the method of raising the min- 
ister's tax : 

"Voted to lay a ministerial tax on 
the Congregational inhabitants at twen- 
ty cents each on the poll, and upon all 
ratable estate in the same proportion, 
Congregational inhabitants to be ascer- 
tained by consent, individually, to either 
of the selectmen at the time of taking 
the inventory. " 

People liable to pay a minister's tax 
sometimes publicly, in town meeting, 
declared their adhesion to the princi- 
ples of some one or other of the socie- 
ties exempted from the payment of that 

The lease of the parsonage lands in 
1 798, incurred an annual revenue which 

was proportionately divided among the 
existing societies till the year 1853. In 
the year 1S42, when the town for the 
i:r;T lime published a printed report of 
its pecuniary transactions, the last divis- 
ion of parsonage money was declared 
to be as follows : 

1 st Congregational 






Calvinist Baptist, 



Union " 






1 st Universalist 









The round total was set down at $88.00 
The 2d Congregational society 
dropped out of the list in 1S51. The 
last allowance to this society was fifty- 
six cents. The town report of the year 
1S53, contained the following and last 
list of apportionments of parsonage 
money : 

Congregational society, $30.09 

Union Baptist " . 19.04 

Calvinist " " 15.72 

Episcopalian " 4.40 

1st Universalist " 7.57 

2d " " 7.10 

Methodist " 4.18 

The total of this list was also set down 
in round numbers as $S8. 

The above figures are suggestive in 
presenting a view of the relative 
strength of the different societies at the 
specific times stated. It is interesting 
to note that certain of the societies 
soon lost all traces of even a nominal 
existence, after the suspension of the 
parsonage revenues. For some time 
they had kept up a show of vitality by 
making their portion of the parsonage 
fund a nucleus of an outlay for a few 
days' preaching in the year. 

In the march of the years, the old pe- 
culiarities of local religious life have 
given place to new features and forms. 
It is needless to say that some of the 
old formalities died hard. Innovations 
were distrusted. The experience in 
view of proposed changes was substan- 
tially uniform in all the churches. Even 
the staid Episcopalians were ruffled by 



unaccustomed ceremonies. When, for 
the first time, the choir of the Episco- 
pal church chanted the Gloria Patri, 
wJiifek fee fore hid bee** ieid only^ an m* 
dignant lady abruptly shut her prayer 
book in unfeigned disgust. The great- 
er jealousy formerly existing between 
different denominations is well known. 
It is said this inharmonious feeling was 
once sought to serve an innovating use. 
A person prominent in musical circles 
sought to influence the leading minds 
of the Congregational church in favor 
of the purchase of a bass viol. As an 
extreme argumentative resort he sug- 
gested, "The poor, miserable Baptists 
have got one." Tradition, however, 
doesn't relate the effect of this sugges- 


The country store of the earliest 
times was a more emphatic collection 
of multitudinous varieties of articles, if 
possible, than the later place of local 
public traffic. Then, as now. the local 
store was the principal resort of the 
great commonalty. Men of special vo- 
cations sometimes took a stock of pro- 
ducts to the lower country and bartered 
for goods to bring back and distribute 
among their neighbors, and the itiner- 
ant merchant, or pedlar, reaped a much 
better harvest than now ; but the 
country store was a popular necessity 
and well patronized. At first there was 
less trading in domestic luxuries : the 
goods in store represented the common 
necessities. Since the popular idea of 
necessity does not fully exclude the il- 
lusory principle, we have to admit rum, 
gin, brandy, etc., into the former list of 
domestic staples. Cash and barter 
were entertained by every tradesman, 
to whom the populace largely looked 
for advantageous exchanges of sub- 
stance. The progress of the settlement 
was attended by the extension, and to 
some extent by the classification, of 
trade till the time when Hopkinton as- 
sumed the commercial importance de- 
scribed in a previous article. 

The currency employed in the trans- 
action of business was at first nominally 
English, though Spanish milled dollars 

were in circulation. One of the incon- 
veniences of the early settlers of New 
England was a scarcity of money. The 
duierent p*o\ .nciai gororrrssents sotjgfet 
to relieve the public financial burdens 
by the issue of Bills of Credit, a cur- 
rency mentioned in the records of this 
town as " old tenor." Such, a circulating 
medium in such a time could only de-' 
preciate in value, but, following a cus- 
tom obtaining in the old country, the 
purchasing value of these bills could 
from time to time be fixed by the local 
legislatures. About the year 1750, n 
was established throughout the provinces 
that £1 in the currency of the Bills 0: 
Credit should be equivalent to two shil- 
lings and eight pence lawful money, and 
that six shillings should be equal to one 

The preliminary events of the Revo- 
lution involved the establishment of 2 
system of Continental currency. At the 
time of the first issue of a ":aper circu- 
lating medium, in 1775, the Continental 
notes were nearly at par wtih gold, but 
they soon fell to comparative nothing- 
ness in value. The effect of this col- 
lapse in monetary matters was amply 
illustrated in the public transactions of 
the town of Hopkinton. At a town 
meeting held in 1 781, it was voted that 
the price of a day's work on the highway, 
by a man, should be $30 ; the price of a 
day's work by a yoke of oxen. $30 ; the 
price of a plow and can. Sio each. 
The salary of the Rev. Elijah Fletcher, 
second minister of the town, was also 
voted to be £4000 for the year, but the 
reverend pastor prefered to accept £-q 
in gold equivalents, and declined the 
larger nominal sum. The success of 
the American cause, and the permanent 
establishment of the public credit, gave 
a correspondingly improved aspect to 
local affairs, and in later times this town 
has experienced fluctuations in prices 
in common with the genera! country. 

During the period of Hopkinton's 
greater importance as a commercial sta- 
tion, a bank was maintained here for a few- 
years. The institution was known as 
the Franklin Bank, and was incorporated 
in 1833. The grantees were Horace 
Chase, Nathaniel Oilman, Isaac Long t 



Jr., William Little, Joseph Stanwood, 
Matthew Harvev, Andrew Leach, Moses 
C>>uld t Ebeneaei Dustin, Timothy 
Chandler, Stephen Darling, and James 
Huse. The operations of this bank seem 
to have been exceedingly bungling during 
the short term of its existence, and it 
finally settled with its creditors at ninety 
cents on a dollar. The Franklin Bank 
occupied the building now used by the 
Hopkinton Public Library. ' 

The standard of quantities to be re- 
cognized in commercial transactions has, 
from remote times, been a subject of 
legal regulation. The weights and meas- 
ures first used in this town were the 
standards of older communities. In a 
record made in the year 1S04, the town 
of Hopkinton declared the local stand- 
ard to be as follows : 


1 . . 56 lbs. 

1 . .28 lbs. 

1 . . 24 lbs. 

1 . .7 lbs. 


I . . 4 lbs. 

i . .2 lbs. 

1 . . 1 lb. 

1 . . . * lb. 

1 . . 2 oz. 

I . I oz. 

1 . . h oz. 

1 . £ oz. 

For the use of the above weights the 
town recognized "two small scale beams 
with brass dishes," and also "one large 
scale beam with boards, and strung with 
iron wires." The wooden dry measures 
were specific as 1 half-bushel, 1 peck, 
1 half-peck, 1 two-quart, and 1 quart ; 
while the copper liquid measures were 
started to be 1 gallon, 1 two-quart, 1 
quart, 1 pint, 1 half-pint, and 1 gill. 

By legal requirement, the standard of 
weights and measures is regulated by a 
town sealer to this day, such officer 
being chosen anuually at the town- 
meeting in March, but the modern 
improvements and facilities for determ- 
ining quantities have made a practically 
dead letter of the present law requiring 
his selection. 

For many years a public hay-scales 

occupied a site in the rear of the 
Congregational meeting house. I: was 
simply an immense scale beam and 
platform', the whole apparatus being 
covered with a roof. It long ago passed 
away to give place to the modern hay- 


In the earlier history of this town, 
politics and religion were closely rehired. 
For many years the affairs of the legally 
established, or Congregational, chtirch 
were arranged by vote of the town. 
The intimate relation existing between 
the church and the town made the 
meeting-house and town-house a: first 
identical. The earliest town-meeting 
held in the first meeting-house was on 
the 2d of March, 1767. Previously, 
town-meetings had been held at private 
houses. Town-meetings continued to 
be held in the church till 1799. "hen 
use was first made .of the old Hills- 
borough county Court House, the 
annual meeting of that year being held 
in the upper room of the county edifice. 
Town-meeting has since been held 
annually on the same spot. 

At the time of the incorporation of 
the town, in 1 765, annual town -meetings 
were legally held only on the firs: Mon- 
day in March. In the year iS: :. the 
State legislature fixed the date of annual 
town-meetings at the second Tuesday 
of the same month. Till the year 1 Si 3, 
when the State established a few re- 
quiring the use of an alphabetical list 
of voters at town-meetings, public legal 
gatherings in town had been conducted 
with less formality than has been main- 
tained since, but the regard for parlia- 
mentary proprieties had been snrrlcient 
to prevent any disorder or unskillfalness 
of a serious nature. 

The instincts of the people 01 this 
town have always largely partaken of a 
Democratic character. There has been 
a prominent jealousy of individual 
rights. This feature of local political 
life was exhibited in the very earliest 
times, when individuals frequently ap- 
peared at the moderator's desk to record 
their names in opposition to some 
measure or other passed by the majority. 



Even to this day the doctrine of indi- 
vidual rights is strongly asserted by the 
mass of persons of whatever party 



supremacy of the Democratic party, 
the lines of party distinction were drawn 
so clearly that scarely a Whig was ever 
permitted to represent the town at the 
General Court. Once, in 1844, there 
was a kind of general compromise be- 
tween parties, and Moses Colby, a Whig, 
and Samuel Colby, a Democrat.were sent 
to the legislature together. For quite 
a number of years there was a com- 
promise on the subject of selectmen, 
and a general consent gave the Whigs an- 
nually one member in a board of three : 
but this arrangement was broken up by 
a fancied or real attempt of the Whigs 
to take more than their customarily al- 
lotted portion of the chosen. 

Till the year 1855, when the Demo- 
crats lost the general control of political 
affairs in town for the first time, the con- 
stantly prevailing superiority had pre- 

vented the practice or necessity of miu h 
caucusing. A few leading ones p ■•. 
their heads together and gave a definite 

to the 

tv uiovenj-: ■'. 

process worked very well, except when 
now and then an accident would happen, 
as, for instance, when a refractory can- 
didate insisted in pushing his private 
claims at all hazzards. Caucusing, 
however, had been practiced more or 
less previously to 1855, but since this 
date the closeness of the popular vote 
has often led to a degree of figuring and 
planning that can be easily compre- 
hended by all accustomed to watch the 
movements of political leadership in 
New Hampshire during the last quarter 
of a century. 

We 'have shown, in a previous article, 
that the Democrats of this town held a 
majority on the Governor's vote till 
1865. However, in 1855, the American 
party elected two representatives — Paul 
R. George and Timothy Colby — and 
three selectmen. 



[Tliis article from Miss Connor, written from Malaga last summer, having been mislaid, after its re- 
ception, is published at this time as not without interest, notwithstanding the delay.— Ed.] 

The streets of Malaga always pre- 
sent an animated appearance. One 
never sees here that dead calm which 
pervades many of our northern cities 
in midsummer. At all hours of the 
day the air resounds with the sonorous 
voices of men and boys calling out 
whatever they may have to sell. Fish 
of all kinds, fruits, live turkeys and 
many other things may be obtained in 
this way, with the additional entertain- 
ment of listening to a loud and heated 
discussion between the servant and 
vender regarding the price. If the latter 

chances to be a boy, he summons a 
flood of tears to his assistance, having 
acquired, as a part of his occupation, 
the faculty of crying when occasion de- 
mands. The servant, accustomed to 
mechanical weeping, is immovable and 
the youthful imposter is finally com- 
pelled to receive a fair price for his 

Every afternoon at five o'clock, an 
old man with a bright, cheerful face 
passes our window calling out "bar- 
quiilos" in a clear, musical voice which 
makes itself heard at a long distance. 



The children crowd around him while 
he takes from a green box strapped 
over his shoulder, a tube made of light 
pa^Lc, uii oiiO end of srhich / j puts s 
white foamy substance, composed of 
the whites of eggs and sugar. At this 
juncture, the little ones become frantic 
and jostle each other in a most uncer- 
emonoius manner, in their eagerness to 
possess the delicate morsel. Each one 
is served and the poor old man goes 
on his way rejoicing ever the few 
quartas which will buy his daily bread. 
Barquillos are also obtained at restau- 
rants as an accompaniment for ices, 
and seem to be relished by children of 
a larger growth, as well as others. 

The business of the ware houses 
commences at an early hour and con- 
tinues through the day ; carts drawn by 
mules are constantly passing while the 
industrious little donkeys may be seen 
marching in a line, following their lead- 
er, who has a bell to announce his 
coming. During the vintage, long lines 
of donkeys laden with boxes of raisins 
come from the vineyards, horses never 
being used excest in cabs and private 
carriages. The cab horses are poor, 
old animals which seem to have lived 
as long as nature intended, but are 
kept alive by some mysterious agency, 
and by dint of much urging and whip- 
ping manage to move at a slow pace. 
One day, when we were taking a drive, 
the horse suddenly stopped and the 
driver dismounted. To our inquiry, as to 
the cause of delay he replied, "no es 
nada" (it is nothing), resumed his seat 
and we started again, but had not pro- 
ceeded far when the animal absolutely 
refused to go ; this time we insisted up- 
on alighting and were coolly informed 
that the horse was only a little cansado 
(tired). Many more instances might 
be cited illustrating the manner in 
which dumb animals are abused in a 
country where there are no laws pro- 
hibiting it, or if such laws exist they are 
not enforced. 

The animation prevailing through 
the day by no means diminishes as 
night approaches, although of a very 
different character. At twilight, the 
higher classes sally forth to the Alame- 

da or Muelle (mole), to enjoy the re- 
freshing breeze from the sea, while 
those of lower estate seek some place 
n>" vende/vous and in4ulg£ in their idle 
gossip. An occasional troubadour 
steals to some obscure corner and 
sends forth plaintive sounds from his 
faithful guitar, not unfrequently some 
youthful swain is inspired to add the 
charms of his voice, and the "Malague- 
nas" bursts forth in all its primitive 
sweetness. The enthusiasm of the 
Spaniards on hearing their national airs 
is something remarkable, they become 
quite wild with excitement and applaud 
in the most- vociferous manner. For- 
eigners, also, who have spent some 
time in the country, share this enthusi- 
asm, which seems to be caused more 
by a certain rhthymical peculiarity, than 
by any extraordinary merit of the mu- 
sic itself. 

The romantic days of Spain are past, 
when the lover stood beneath the bal- 
cony of* his sweetheart, wooing her 
with the gentle strains of his guitar. To 
us it seems a matter of regret that this 
ancient custom no longer exists, but it 
undoubtedly relieves many anxious 
parents as it particularly favored clan- 
destine courtships. A Spanish gentle- 
man of our acquaintance who is blessed 
with seven daughters, and occupies a 
house containing twenty balconies, 
congratulates himself upon the change 
in love-making as it would be impossi- 
ble to keep watch over all, even by 
constantly rushing from one balcony to 
another. At the present day the suitor 
is admitted to the salon, where he may 
converse with the object of his affec- 
tions, but always in the presence of her 
parents. Spanish mammas would be 
shocked at the freedom allowed Amer- 
ican girls in receiving visits from the 
opposite sex and accepting their escort 
to places of entertainment. 

The feast of Corpus Christi was cele- 
brated in Malaga with much eclat. For 
two weeks previous preparations were 
going on for the fair, which takes 
place at this time, booths being ar- 
ranged on one side of the Alameda and 
filled with a variety of articles, useful 
and ornamental, calculated to please 



the eye and lighten the pockets of 
passers-by. while others were provided 
with these substantial things needful to 
satisfy the wants of the inner man. At 
liigiic cue Alameda was most briiliaiitly 
illuminated by long lines of lights ex- 
tending the whole length on either side, 
also across the centre at intervals, with 
occasional circles and clusters, produc- 
ing a most dazzling effect. At each 
end, in front of the fountains were 
erected two pavillions, one under the 
direction of a club styled the "Circulo 
Mercantil," the other by the members 
of the ''Lycio" both of which were 
handsomely decorated with flags and 
flowers and provided with comfortable 
seats. We availed ourselves of the op- 
portunity to attend the balls given in 
these pavillions, and found them ex- 
ceedingly diverting. In the centre, a 
space was reserved for the dancers, 
who tripped the ''light fantastic" with 
apparent enjoyment, notwithstanding 
the disadvantages of little room and 
much heat. The toilettes of the ladies 
were varied and elegant, displaying a 
taste which would do credit to Worth 
himself, while the national costume, 
worn by a few young ladies, far exceed- 
ed the most charming conceptions of 
that famous artist. This costume, call- 
ed the "Jlfaj'a" is extremely pictur- 
esque, especially when combined with 
the piquant faces and nonchalant airs 
of the Spanish girls. It consists of a 
skirt of bright red or blue satin, edged 
with a broad trimming of black che}iille ; 
with this is worn a black velvet bodice, 
the hair is arranged in finger puffs, with 
a high comb placed jauntily on one 
side, and a few flowers gracefully twined 
among the dark tresses ; a Spanish 
mantilla, and laced slippers, just dis- 
closed beneath the short skirt, complete 
this beautiful costume, rich in fabric, 
but simple in design, arid above all al- 
lowing a graceful freedom which our 
present straight laced fashions render 

impossible. Weary of the brilliancy 
and animation of the ballroom, we 
passed to the garden where tables were 
arranged for refreshments, and amid 
the sound oi inspiring music and the 
gentle murmur of the fountain, par- 
took of delicate viands served by atten- 
tive waiters. The arrangement of. 
these pavillions was perfect in every re- 
spect, contributing in the highest de- 
gree to the comfort of the guests, and 
long shall we bear in remembrance the 
pleasant evenings they afforded us. 

On Corpus Christi day a long and 
imposing procession marched through 
the principal streets, carrying an image 
of the "Virgin" robed in black velvet 
elaborately embroidered in gold, and a 
large "Custodia" of solid silver con- 
taining the "host" The clergy, in 
their clerical gowns, with their faces 
plump and glossy, walked . along in a 
self-satisfied manner, confident of good 
cheer in this world, whatever may- 
await them in another. The civil and 
military authorities added their digni- 
fied presence, followed by a large con- 
course of people with wax candles. 
The streets and balconies were filled 
with men, women, and children of all 
ages and classes, every available space 
being occupied. In the afternoon a 
bull fight took place, and a ball in the 
evening ended the programme of the 

In the midst of the festivities of the 
week, the Queen's illness was an- 
nounced, causing a suspension of all 
gayety, and her subsequent death was 
followed by a season of mourning. The 
Alameda was stripped of its superfluous 
adornings, and the sound of music no 
longer filled the air with its sweet har- 
monies. Funeral services were solem- 
nized in the Cathedral, and many a 
fervent prayer ascended to Heaven for 
the repose of the dead, and the resig- 
nation of the bereaved young King. 


§m y!i 



— ^ 

7 t^^i^/L-/?~^£ 






MAY, 1879. 

XO. 8. 


Croydon, in Sullivan County, is sit- 
uated on the highlands between Con- 
necticut and Merrimac rivers. The 
north branch of Sugar River crosses it, 
dividing it into two nearly equal parts. 
The soil is diversified, and much of its 
scenery is wild and picturesque. 
"Croydon Mountain," extending across 
the western part of the town, is the 
highest elevation in the county and 
commands an extensive and beautiful 

The charter of Croydon, signed by 
Benning Wentworth, was dated May 31, 
1763. The township was divided into 
seventy-one shares, of which two were 
reserved as a farm for Gov. "Wentworth ; 
one, for the propagation of the gospel 
in foreign parts ; one, as a glebe for the 
Church of England : one, for the first 
minister who should settle in town ; 
one, for the education of youth, and 
the remaining sixty-five to as many 
different individuals. 

The first meeting of the grantees was 
held at Grafton, Mass., June 17, 1763 ; 
and the first meeting in Croydon, Jan. 
17, 1768. From Grafton, in the spring 
of 1766, came the first settlers of 
Croydon, and commenced the erection 
of cabins in the unbroken forest. 
They were hardy, brave men and grap- 
pled manfully and resolutely with the 
hardships of pioneer life. 

Among those who came to Croydon, 
in the spring of 1766, was Ezekiel 

Powers, son of Lemuel and Thankful 
(Leland) Powers, born in Grafton. 
Mass., March 21, 1745* He was ad- 
mirably fitted to endure the hardships 
and privations incident to a new set- 
tlement, being a man of rare physical 
power, but of an active, energetic and 
versatile mind. His children were 
Ezekiel, Jun., Abijah James and several 
daughters. Among his decendants 
are numbered some in each of the 
learned professions, and in the various 
walks of business life. 

Bezaleel Barton, Benjamin Barton, 
and Peter Barton, brothers, came to 
Croydon, during the Revolution, from 
Sutton, Mass. 

Levi W. Barton, grandson of Peter 
Barton and Ezekiel Powers, and son of 
Bezaleel Barton, 2d, and Hannah 
(Powers) Barton, the eldest of five 
brothers, was born in Croydon, on the 
first day of March, 1818. His father's 
business calling him from home much 
of the time, the care and management 
of the children fell to the lot of their 
mother, a woman well fitted to take the 
responsibility. After the death of her 
husband she, by untiring industry and 
the most rigid economy managed to 
keep her family together and in com- 
fortable circumstances. But few moth- 
ers, if placed in her circumstances 
could "keep the wolf from the door." 
Levi W. early learned to share with 
his mother the cares and responsibility 



of maintaining the family, the pecuni- 
ar)' condition of which was such as to 
v 1 mand his feiroe awl iabor even in 
early boyhood. He early learned the 
lesson of self-reliance and the necessity 
of economy and a proper use of time, 
a lesson which has contributed much 
to the success he has attained in life. 

From the age of ten years till he 
left the district school at eighteen, his 
attendance was restricted to a short 
term in winter and this with frequent 
interruptions, he being engaged in man- 
ual labor all other parts of the year. 

The condition of the family having 
somewhat improved, he left home when 
he was eighteen years old for the pur- 
pose of taking care of himself. But 
the way before him was beset with 
difficulties. He now wished to improve 
his condition and receive the advantages 
afforded to others ; but he had not the 
means. He must labor. So he com- 
promised the matter by taking his 
books with him as he went to his daily 
labor, and, as an opportunity presented 
itself, changed from labor to study. 
The writer well remembers the times, 
on rainy days, when Levi W. would call 
upon him, book in hand, for instruction 
in grammar or other common school 
branches. In this way, and by attend- 
ing one term at the L'nity Academy, 
then under the instruction of Alonzo 
A. Miner, now Dr. Miner, of Boston, 
he fitted himself for teaching. He 
now regarded his school days closed 
and cheerfully chose the occupation of 
a farmer. 

In 1 839, when twenty-one years of age, 
he married Miss Mary A. Pike, of New- 
port, a young lady of great worth, who 
died of scarlet fever in 1840, leaving 
an infant son five days old, afterwards 
the late Col. Ira McL. Barton. He 
placed his motherless boy in the care 
and keeping of a sister, Mrs. Amos 
Kidder, who tenderly cared for and 
reared the child. 

By the death of his young wife, all 
his plans for life had perished. He could 
no longer endure a home so desolate. 
He spent a part of the following year 
with friends who extended to him every 
kindness in their power. The year fol- 

lowing he collected together about on? 
hundred dollars, all the worldly effects 
v tofjqfo he posesssd^ and commenced 1 
classical course of study at KimbaS 
L nion Academy, then under the direc- 
tion of Dr. Cyrus Richards, a distin- 
guished teacher and educator. There 
he pursued his studies with a zeal 
which would listen to no discourage- 
ment. During his stay of three years, 
he taught school each winter and spent 
his vacations in manual labor to eke 
out his scanty means. 

It being often a matter of doubt 
how he should meet even the most 
prudent expenditures, separated, as 
he was, from his son, and still labor- 
ing under the load of domestic afflic- 
tion, few believed that he could com- 
plete a labor commenced and con- 
tinued under such circumstances. Al- 
though laboring at first under disad- 
vantages arising from lack of early 
school training, he rose by dint of ap- 
plication to stand abreast with his fel- 
lows in their usual studies, and to out- 
rank them as a speaker and debater. 

He entered Dartmouth College in 
July, 1844, being then twenty-six 
years of age. Few who had witnessed 
his course thus far, dared predict that 
he would hold on his course four long 
years. Especially was this true of 
those who knew that he must rely up- 
on his own exertions to raise the means 
for his support. Still, nothing daunted, 
he entered upon his course and gradu- 
ated in the class of 1S48, with Hon. 
James W. Patterson, Hon. H. P. Rolfe, 
Hon. Anson S. Marshall, Dr. A. B. 
Crosby, and others who have done 
honor to their Alma Mater. Mr. Bar- 
ton's standing in college was honorable, 
and his oration on the day of gradua- 
tion was highly commended through 
the public journals of the day. 

While in college, he also spent the 
winters in teaching and. the vacations 
in manual labor. His custom, as he 
informed the writer, was, as soon as the 
last recitation of a term had been heard, 
to start on foot for his mother's house, 
a distance of twenty-one miles ; and at 
the commencement of the next term he 
would return by the same conveyance. 



Being anxious to enter upon the 
practice of hi? chosen profession at the 
earliest possible day, he commenced 
the study of the law with Hon. Daniel 
Blaisdell of Hanover, during his senior 

Immediately after graduating, Mr. 
Barton commenced teaching the 
Canaan Academy, and at the same 
time entered as a student the office of 
Judge Kittredge, where he remained 
until January, 1S51. While there he 
taught the Academy five terms, the 
Academy being then in a flourishing 
condition. He was also appointed 
postmaster of Canaan, which office he 
held until January, 1S51, when he went 
to Newport, and completed his course 
of legal study with Messrs. Metcalf and 
Corbin, and where he was admitted to 
practice in July of the same year. In 
1854 he became the law partner of 
Hon. Ralph Metcalf, and continued 
one year in business with him, when 
the latter was elected Governor of the 
State, and retired from practice. Mr. 
Barton then formed a partnership with 
Shepherd L. Bowers, Esq., then just 
commencing the practice of the law, 
and continued the partnership until 

While his professional duties have 
claimed the greater share of his atten- 
tion, he has found time to engage in 
house-building, having erected and 
completed four entire sets of buildings ; 
in practical farming, for which he has 
a strong liking ; in stock raising and in 
fruit growing, in both of which he has 
had much practical experience. 

In 1855, 1 85 6 and 1857 he was 
Register of Deeds for Sullivan county ; 
was County Solicitor from 1859 to 
1864 ; was representative to the State 
Legislature in 1S63, 1S64, 1875, ^76 
and 1877, and State Senator in 1867 
and 1868. During his entire term of 
service in both branches, he was a 
member of the Judiciary Committee, 
and for five years its chairman. In 
1866 he was chairman of the board of 
Commissioners appointed by Gov. 
Smith to audit and report the war in- 
debtedness of the state. In 1876 he 
was a member of the convention to 

revise the constitution of the state, and 
the same year, one of the Republican 
Electors of Presided and Yice-PreM- 
dent of the United States. He was ap- 
pointed Bank Commissioner by Gov. 
Harriman, but declined the office. In 
1877 he was appointed by Gov. Pres- 
cott one of the Commissioners to revise 
and codify the laws of New Hamp- 

He has been twice a prominent can- 
didate for Congress, but has failed of a 
nomination through local divisions, 
though his qualifications for the posi- 
tion no one questioned, nor could any 
one say that the nomination was not 
due to him if long continued, faithful. 
public service could confer such right 
on any one. 

As a teacher, Mr. Barton had few su- 
periors. He taught in all seventeen 
terms, the last three in Newport, after 
his admission to the bar. For, four 
years following he had charge of the 
district schools of the town. 

When he opened an office in New- 
port, he found there the Hon. Edmund 
Burke, Messrs. Metcalf and Corbin, 
Amasa Edes, Esq., David Allen, Esq.. 
and William F. Newton, Esq., all in the 
practice of their profession. The field 
seemed to be fully and ably occupied. 
No wonder that some predicted that 
Mr. Barton would be starved out. But 
a man who had supported himself for 
sixty cents a week at the Academy, and 
for less than two dollars a week at Col- 
lege, was not the man to starve easily. 
He knew what economy meant, and 
how to practice accordingly. His early 
training had made him muscular and 
self-reliant. It soon became apparent 
that he had come to stay ; for from 
the outset his success was assured. It 
immediately became apparent that he 
would bring to the discharge of the 
duties of his new position the same en- 
ergy and devotion to principles, which 
had heretofore characterized his ac- 
tions. From that time to the present 
he has enjoyed the confidence of the 

As a counselor he is cautious and 
careful, dissuading his clients from en- 
gaging in litigation, rather than en- 

2 2S 


couraging them- to embark on that sea 
without a shore ; as an advocate, he is 
eloquent, zealous, bofcl aad pe-Fskteafc 
In the preparation and trial of causes, 
he has few equals and no superiors at 
the Sullivan county bar. His faithful- 
ness and devotion to the interests of 
his clients, appear in an unusual de- 
gree. Hon. Edmund Burke who has 
been opposed to him in many hard 
contested cases, has been heard to say 
to the jury that his " brother Barton's 
clients, in his own estimation, were al- 
ways right and his witnesses always 
truthful, in fact, his geese were always 

Mr. Barton's first election to the 
House was in 1863, during the war of 
the Rebellion. Political feeling ran 
high. The Democracy were represent- 
ed by their ablest men and best parlia- 
mentarians, skilled in all the rules and 
modes of procedure, which make mi- 
norities formidable. Never was a mi- 
nority abler led by adroit leaders. Al- 
though Mr. Barton was a new member, 
unused to the rules of the House, still, 
he almost at once became the acknowl- 
edged leader of the majority. No 
other man was so much relied upon to 
meet the attacks of the opposition, and 
none did it with greater effect. Re- 
turned to the House in 1864, his posi- 
tion was the same as that in the former 
year. He urged the passage of the law 
allowing soldiers in the field the right 
to vote, and openly denounced the ac- 
tion of Gov. Gilmore in relation to the 
bill, though he well knew that it would 
cost him, as it did, his re-appointment 
to the office of solicitor. 

In 1875 an d l &76 ne was chairman 
of the Republican legislative caucus, 
the labors of which were both extreme- 
ly difficult and important. As to the 
manner of treating the Senatorial ques- 
tion then before the legislature, the Re- 
publicans were divided. Mr. Barton 
at once took his position and could not 
be turned aside. While he believed 
that Messrs. Head and Todd were en- 
titled by right to their seats in the Sen- 
ate, he did not believe it advisable un- 
der the circumstances, and looking to 
the final results, to insist upon these 

rights. Looking at the results which 
followed, who can now doubt the wis- 
dom of the course pursued? Comn-r::- 
ing upon the case at the close of the 
session, the Free Press remarks : "The 
cool course pursued is due in a great 
measure to Mr. Barton, sustained by 
the Governor. We think it will stand 
the test of time and recommend itself 
to all fair thinking men as the wisest 
course that could have been pursued 
under the ciscumstances. " The Inde- 
pendent Statesman, in commenting on 
the Free Press article, says : " It is no 
doubt true that the course of Mr. Bar- 
ton, sustained by the Governor, was 
what decided the matter. It turned 
the scale before hanging in the bal- 
ance. In this they followed their 
convictions of right, and all the glori- 
as well as the responsibility is theirs."' 

In the sessions of 1876 and 1877 his 
attention to business was such as to 
give him a commanding influence in the 
House. Always in his place, he was 
ready to lend a helping hand for any- 
needed work. His large experience 
had made the various steps of legisla- 
tion familiar to him. And the writer 
may be pardoned if he here adds the 
following as expressive of the views of 
those competent to form an opinion 
from actual observation. At the close 
of the session of 1877, the correspond- 
ent of the Manchester American, an 
able and sagacious observer of men and 
things, says : 

" Barton of Newport is a man who 
brought with him an established repu- 
tation, and who has been one of the 
most prominent members of the House. 
He is a ready debater, quick to see a 
point and take it, popular with his ac- 
quaintances, and has had a large legis- 
lative experience, which gives him the 
full measure of his ability. He was the 
most prominent champion of the prison 
bill, which he managed with great tact 
and carried to victory, against odds 
which threatened at one time to defeat 
it. He has also been an active advo- 
cate of the various farmers' bills. If 
Sullivan county is permitted to name 
the successor of Col. Blair, an honor 
which her reliable Republican majority 



seems to entitle her, he will doubtless 
be the man." 

Not tess u'.i':j''r^eniary to Mr. "Oar- 
ton is the following truthful notice of 
his labors at that time, which appeared 
in the Statesman : 

"One of the best men in the House 
was Barton of Newport. Suave and 
considerate at all times, and willing to 
take a hand in any discussion affecting 
the public weal, his cheerful, hearty 
voice striking in upon a dull or an ac- 
rimonious debate, had a pleasing and 
mollifying effect. Although- careful and 
cautious, he has positive ideas, and 
while he respects the saying that 
"harsh words butter no parsnips," it 
cannot be assumed that he is not suffi- 
ciently aggressive in the maintenance 
of his convictions when they are assail- 
ed. Sometimes sharp in his personal 
sallies, they were singularly free from 
bitterness or malice, and no one, how- 
ever much aggrieved at first, could 
hold resentment against him. Few 
members had more influence in the 
House, and his advocacy of any meas- 
ure gave it strength. He made no 
long or labored speeches, nor did he 
attempt any learned expositions. Know- 
ing the caliber of the average legislator 
in an unwieldy body of nearly four 
hundred^men, his remarks were couch- 
ed in off hand phrase more effective 
with the bucolic element than the most 
polished rhetoric or the severest logic. 
Perhaps, also, the secret of his influence 
with the House, was due in part to the 
fact that he seldom got on the wrong 
side of a question. On all moral ques- 
tions, also, he was sound, foremost with 
voice and influence and vote. " 

In the legislative caucus, which 
nominated Hon. E. H. Rollins, for U. 
S. Sentor, Mr. Barton received a hand- 
some complimentary vote. 

Thus it will be seen that Mr. Barton 
*> a man of large experience in the 
duties of a legislator ; and it may be 
added that through all of these years 
of political life he presents a record 
without a blemish. 

In private as # \vell as public life he 
has ever been upright and honorable. 
He is a self-made man, and we venture to 

say that few men have, unaided, sur- 
mounted greater difficulties. He does 
not claim to belong to the class of re- 
formed men, as he never lapsed into 
bad habits, never having indulged in 
the use of intoxicating liquor, or of 
tobacco in any form. It was said of 
him, in 1877, that he was the "'best 
preserved man in the House." We 
know not how this may have been, but 
it is true, that judging from his looks 
and appearance, one would say that 
he was at least ten years the junior of 
men of his age. 

In 1852, he was married to Miss 
Lizzie F. Jewett, of Hollis, a young 
lady of culture, learning, and good 
sense. They have three sons and one 
daughter now living. The eldest, Her- 
bert J. Barton, is a young man of great 
promise. He graduated at Dartmouth 
in the Class of 1S76, among the first 
in a class of 69 students. He has 
since had charge of the Lmion School 
in Newport for two years, and now has 
charge of a school in Waukegan, 111. 
His labors as a teacher have been at- 
tended with marked success. 

Mr. Barton is highly esteemed as a 
citizen ; he is kind as a neighbor, is 
strongly attached to his friends, gener- 
ous to his opponents, and social with all. 

In religious belief he is a Methodist, 
though reared in the Universalis faith. 
He is no bigot. He has always taken 
a strong interest in whatever affects the 
moral, social, or material prosperity of 
of those around him, and is always 
ready to lend a helping hand to every 
good work. 

In conclusion, it may be stated that 
Croydon, though little in wealth and 
population, is great in the number and 
character of the men whom she has 
produced and sent abroad. The limits 
of this sketch forbid the mention of 
but few of them. The late William 
Powers and Gershom Powers, brothers, 
of Auburn, N. Y., were both self-edu- 
cated and self-made men ; William was 
Deputy Agent of the Auburn Peniten- 
tiary and Superintendent in the erection 
of a prison at Kingston, in Canada, 
and, for some years after, Warden of 
the same ; and Gershom was a teacher, 



lawyer, judge, agent of the Auburn 
prison, and Member of Congress ; the 
late Dr. Horace Powers, of Morristown. 
v L, a iiicui 01 extensive practice in ms 
profession, sheriff of Lamoille County, 
Member of the Constitutional Conven- 
tion, State Senator and bank director, — 
he was the father of Hon. H. H. Powers, 
now Judge of the Supreme Court of Vt. ; 
the late Judge Cutting, of Bangor, was 
one of the Justices of the Supreme 
Court of Maine ; the late Dr. Stow, of 
Boston, was, for many years, a leading 
clergyman of the Baptist denomination ; 
the Tate Griswold W. Wheeler, M. D., 
of St. Louis, Mo., was a scientist and 
member of a Philosophical and Scien- 
tific Society in St. Louis ; the late Wil- 

liam P. Wheeler, of Keene, N. H.,was 
a leading lawyer in Cheshire Co. ; the 
late Hon. Cvrus Barton was an influen- 
tial editor at Concora, N. H. ; Timo- 
thy C. Eastman, of New York city, j$ 
probably the heaviest exporter of fresh 
beef in the United States ; George F. 
Putnam, of Haverhill, is a leading law- 
yer in Northern New Hampshire. But 
none among the sons of Croydon have 
done more to reflect honor upon the 
place of his nativity than the subject of 
this sketch.* 

*It might properlv be added, that Dr. William 
Barton, of Crovdoh, a brother of the subject of 
this sketch, is a'physician of high repute, and was 
manv vears prominent in educational affairs, while 
a half-sister, Augusta Cooper Bristol, now of Vine- 
land, New Jersey, is well and favorably known iu 
literary circles. 



All through the night, 
Dear Father, when our trembling eyes explore 

In vain Thy heavens, bereft of warmth and light, 
W T hen birds are mute, and roses glow no more, 
And this fair world sinks rayless from our sight, 
O, Father, keep us then I 

All through the night, 
When no lips smile, nor dear eyes answer ours, 

Nor well-known voices through the shadows come ; 
When love and friends seem dreams of vanished hours, 
And darkness holds us, pitiless and dumb, 
O, Father, keep us then ! 

All through the night, 
When lone despairs beset our happy hearts, 

And drear forebodings will not let us sleep ; 
When every smothered sorrow freshly starts, 
And pleads for pity till we fain would weep, 
O, Father, keep us then ! 

All through the night, 
When slumbers deep our weary senses fold, 

Protect us in the hollow of Thy hand ; 
And when the morn, with glances bright and bold, 
Thrills the glad heavens and wakes the smiling land, 
O, Father, keep us then ! 






The Forty-fifth Congress of the Uni- 
ted States assembled at Washington in 
extra session, on Monday, October 15, 
1877, in pursuance of the President's 
proclamation of the fifth of May pre- 
ceding. The immediate reason for 
thus assembling Congress in extra 
session was the failure of the Forty- 
fourth Congress to make the usual 
annual appropriation for the support 
of the army for the fiscal year ending 
June 30, 1878. Nearly all the impor- 
tant legislation of the closing session of 
the Forty-fourth Congress had been 
delayed by the prolonged struggle over 
the electoral count, and when that 
memorable contest was ended, and Mr. 
Hayes declared the successor of Presi- 
dent Grant, less than sixty hours re- 
mained in which to pass nearly ail the 
great appropiation bills necessary for 
the support of the Government. On 
the Army bill there was a "dead lock" 
between the two houses, and as neither 
would yield, the bill failed. This 
necessitated a called session of the 
Forty-fifth Congress to remedy the 
omission of its immediate predecessor 
to provide for the maintenance of the 
anny, and to transact such other busi- 
ness as the public needs might require. 
Its membership consisted of 76 Sena- 
tors and 292 members of the House of 
Representatives. Of the former, Sen- 
ator Hamlin, of Maine, was the oldest 
in years and term of service, and Sen- 
ator Dorsey, of Arkansas, the youngest ; 
3 were less than 40 years of age ; 17 
were between the ages of 40 and 50 ; 
39 between 50 and 60 ; 15 between 60 
and 70; 1 (Hamlin) 71, and 1 (Mc- 
Creary, of Kentucky) whose age was 
not given, but who was probably 70 or 

The Senate was composed of 54 
lawyers, 5 merchants, 3 doctors, 3 edi- 
tors, 3 bankers, 1 planter, 1 farmer, 1 

machinist, 1 manufacturer, 1 teacher. 2 
miners, and 1 officer; n have per- 
formed service in the U. S. Army, and 

10 in the Confederate Army;. 13 have 
been governors of their respective 
States, and 2 have served as territorial 
governors. 35 were educated in col- 
leges, universities, or military schools, 
and 41 received only a common sch: ol 
or academic education: 10 were bom 
in New York, 7 in Ohio. 6 in Pennfyi- 
vania, 6 in Virginia, 5 in Maryland. 4 
in Massachusetts, 4 in Vermont. 4 in 
Tennessee, 4 in Kentucky, 3 in Georgia. 
3 in Maine. 2 in Indiana. 2 in Delaware, 
2 in New Hampshire. 2 in New Jersey. 
2 in North Carolina, 1 in Connecii:.::. 
1 in Louisiana, 1 in Michigan, 1 in 
Missouri, 1 in Rhode Island, 1 in South 
Carolina, 1 in Ireland (Jones of Flor- 
ida), 1 in Scotland (Beck of Kentucky), 
1 in England (Jones of Nevada!, and 
1 in Nova Scotia (Armstrong of Mis- 
souri) ; 1 1 states were represented in fall 
by Senators who were born in the Scales 
they represented ; 10 claimed 1 Sena- 
tor as a native ; 17 were wholly repre- 
sented by Senators born in other s:a:es, 
or countries ; and 16 states were denied 
the honor of being the birthplace of 
any member of the U. S. Senate in the 
Forty-fifth Congress. 

Of their terms of sen-ice at the c'.ose 
of the Congress, 1 had served one year ; 
22 two years; 3 three years; 10 four 
years; 1 five years; 13 six years: 2 
seven years ; 3 eight years ; 3 nine 
years ; 2 ten years ; 1 eleven years ; 2 
twelve years ; 1 thirteen years : 1 eigh- 
teen years (Howe of Wisconsin! : 1 
twenty years (Anthony of Rheir Is- 
land) ; and 1 twenty-six years (Plaraiin 
of Maine). 

The House of Representatives was 
composed of 213 lawyers, 15 bankers, 

11 merchants, 9 farmers, 7 manufac- 
turers, 7 doctors, 4 editors 2 buiiders, 



2 brewers, i barber, i clergyman, i 
mail contractor, i surveyor, i shipper, 
t real estate operator, i ticket agent, x 
railroad president, i leather dealer, i 
educator, i printer, i teacher, i planter, 
i pilot, i civil engineer, 5 whose occu- 
pation is not given, and 1 engaged in 
inland transportation. 

Six have served as governors of their 
states. 150 were educated at colleges 
and universities, and 142 were educated 
in the common schools and academies, 
or were self-educated. 45 were born 
in New York, 38 in Pennsylvania. 32 in 
Ohio, 20 in Tennessee, 1 Sin Kentucky, 
14 in Virginia, 12 in Massachusetts. 12 
n North Carolina, 11 in Georgia, 10 in 
Indiana, S in Maine, 7 in Connecticut, 
6 in South Carolina, 6 in Vermont, 6 
in Maryland, 6 in New Hampshire, 5 
in New Jersey, 4 in Illinois, 3 in Ala- 
bama, 3 in Missouri, 2 in Mississippi, 
2 in Michigan, 1 in Arkansas, 1 in 
Florida, 1 in Iowa. 1 in Louisiana, 1 in 
Rhode Island, 4 in Germany (Schlei- 
cher of Texas, Muller of New York, 
EickhotT of New York, and Morse of 
Massachusetts), 3 in England (Briggs 
of New Hampshire, Joyce of Vermont, 
and Dean of Massachusetts), 2 in Ire- 
land (Walsh of Man-land, and Patter- 
son of Colorado), 2 in Scotland (Phillips 
of Kansas, and Peddie of New Jersey), 
1 in Canada, (Williams of New York), 
and 5 whose birthplace is not given. 

Only 4 states were represented by 
members born in the states they repre- 
sented, viz : Maine, North Carolina, 
Tennessee, and Georgia — though per- 
haps West Virginia ought to be reckon- 
ed in the list, inasmuch as her members 
were all born on the soil of the " Old 
Dominion" from which the state was 
set off ; 33 states were represented 
wholly or in part by members born in 
other states or countries (14 states 
wholly so) : and n states claimed no 
member of the House of Representa- 
tives as a "favorite son." 

1 member was less than 30 years of 
age (Acklem of Louisiana) ; 22 were 
between the ages of 30 and 40 ; 107 
between 40 and 50 ; 108 between 50 
and 60 ; 28 between 60 and 70 ; 3 
between 70 and 80; and 1 above 80, 

(Patterson of New York, a native of 
New Hampshire), and 22 whose ages 
are not ^iven. . 

At the close of the session, 1 mem- 
ber had served one year ; 1 24 two 
years ; 1 three years ; 94 four years ; 
36 six years; 15 eight years; 9 ten 
years ; 1 fourteen years ; 3 sixteen 
years ; 3 eighteen years ; and 1 twenty- 
two years. Mr. Kelley of Pennsylvania 
was the "Father of the House" in 
point of consecutive service, having been 
in that body continuously for iS years. 
Banks, of Massachusetts, and Cox, of 
New York, have each served 18 years, 
and Alexander H. Stephens of Geor- 
gia, 22, but neither of them consecu- 
tively. The terms of service of the 
remaining four members are not given ; 
48 performed military service in the 
Union Army, and 58 in the Confederate 

The amount of business that the 
Forty-fifth Congress was obliged to pass 
its judgment upon, exceeded that of 
any preceding Congress since the or- 
ganization of the government. In the 
House there were introduced 6525 
bills, and 248 joint resolutions, of which 
number 478 bills and 44 joint resolu- 
tions became laws. In the Senate 
there were introduced 1865 bills, and 
72 joint resolutions, of which number 

— bills, and joint resolutions 

became laws (I have not the Senate 
Statistics at hand). 

Col. J. H. Francis, the efficient Res- 
olution and Petition Clerk of the House, 
informs me that 10,467 petitions were 
received, indexed, and referred to the 
appropriate Committee, which he has 
analyzed as follows : 

Claims. . . 1.597 

♦ Commerce, . . 60S 

Currency, . . 196 

Liquor Traffic, . 264 

Naval Affairs, . . 79 
Patents. ... 192 
Taxation, . . 254 

Military Affairs, . 376 
Pensions. . . 878 

Miscellaneous, . 2.551 

Polygamy, . 431 

Postal Matters, . 541 

Tariff; . . 2.440 

A committee to which a petition may 
be referred, obtains jurisdiction of the 



subject matter thereof, and may report a 
bill thereon upon the call of committees. 
A large number of bills are reported 
from committees of Invalid, and Revo- 
lutionary Pensions, Post Office and 
Post Roads. Commerce, Military Affairs, 
Claims, and War Claims. Petitions are 
introduced in the House by members 
who endorse their names on the back 
of the documents and place them in a 
box in front 6f the Speaker's desk, 
from which they are taken to the Peti- 
tion clerk, and thence distributed to 
the proper committees. .Some of the 
petitions are huge rolls of manuscript, 
one of them in the second session of 
the Forty-fifth Congress containing the 
names of over 50,000 petitioners. 

The New England temperance soci- 
eties petition for the suppression of the 
liquor traffic in the District of Colum- 
bia, in the firm belief that sound legis- 
lation cannot be had while Congressmen 
obtain the morning "eye-opener " and 
evening "night cap." All the old 
maids append their audiographs to for- 
midable rolls of paper, insisting upon 
the abolition of polygamy in Utah, 
upon the ground, presumably, that a 
woman is entitled to a whole man, if 
she can get him, or none. The wool- 
growers of Vermont petition for an 
increase of the duties on foreign wool, 
and others in Michigan pray, just as 
earnestly, for its removal. Pennsylvania 
and New England petition that existing 
tariff laws shall not be tampered with ; 
while the South and West are equally 
clamorous for their modification or 
repeal. Among the "miscellaneous" 
are petitions from all classes of people 
for every conceivable object. One 
asks for an appropiation to test the 
efficacy of the theory that yellow fever 
and other similar diseases can be cured 
by the firing of cannon. Another 
believing, or assuming to believe that 
the light of the sun is soon to be extin- 
guished proposes to light the world after 
Old Sol has departed. Still another is wil- 
ling to accept a pension from the govern- 
ment for having succeeded, with the 
aid of his wife probably, in raising "one 
boy a year among the sand-hills of 
Florida/' for several years past." The 

Common Council of Louisville ask the 
government "that the Howgate explor- 
ing expedition be directed to take the 
vessel making the cxpiuiuiiGii, ai":er the 
colony leaves the same, out into the 
open Polar Sea and test the truth of 
of the Symmes theory, and that Ameri- 
cus Symmes, a son of the author of said 
theory, be permitted to go on said 
vessel — .." 

A gentleman from New York with an 
eye upon posterity insists " that in the 
next census such necessary vital statis- 
tics be taken as will definitely settle all 
controversy upon the question of the 
effects upon the off-spring, of consan- 
guineous marriage." 

Forty-nine teachers in Illinois, who 
are evidently willing that country shall 
be spelled with a " k," ask " for the 
appointment of a commission to inquire 
into the propriety of a simplification of 
English orthography." 

Another gentleman thinks he can se- 
cure an intelligent ballot " by the pub- 
lication by the Government of a paper 
which shall be sent each week free to 
each family in the United States ; in 
which paper shall be printed in the 
course of the year the Constitution of 
the United States and of the several 
States, the proceedings of Congress, the 
duties of the officers of the Govern- 
ment and their salaries, the reports of 
all Government expenditures, the 
amount of money received by the Gov- 
ernment, the purposes to which applied, 
a monthly statement of the public 
debt. " 

The Lowell Operatives Reform So- 
ciety want a territory set apart where 
" monogamic law shall not prevail." 

A Maryland patriot wants pay for 
" two hogsheads of molasses destroyed 
by the Britfsh in 18 14." 

A Pennsylvania spinster, distressed 
by her lonely condition, and realizing 
the improbability of securing a man in 
any other way, asks Congress to enact 
a law, " compelling men to marry. " 

An evangelist whose penmanship and 
orthography needs reorganizing, wants 
the "religgun of Krist " made universal 
by Congressional enactments. 

The petition box is alike the recept- 



acle for business documents and the 
productions of disordered minds and 
visionary theorists. It also indicates 
the ¥sst extent 

ilU LjIC 

cent oi cur country 

conflicting interests involved in its com- 
mercial and manufacturing industries. 

It is not often that anything so 
prosaic as a House or Senate bill is 
made the vehicle of humor, but some- 
times the scintillations of wit are found 
in the dryest places. For instance, 
while the discussion on financial legis- 
lation was in progress, some wag in- 
duced Senator Patterson of S. C, to in- 
troduce a bill (Senate bill 1383), pro- 
viding ''That the Congress of the 
United States of America will vote an 
appropriation, the same as a reward, 
to be paid the American citizen who 
shall produce a new foot-measure which 
shall divulge, in it, the truth of the 
meeting of parallel lines in exceeding 
great length." 

The House also had its fun over the 
bill (House bill 4007), " For the relief 
of Private William Hines, Company F. 
Eighteenth United States Infantry, who 
lost his trousers and blanket by fire at 
Aiken, South Carolina. " The amount 
of credit claimed was SS.50. The ac- 
companying documents to the bill was 
a letter from the Secretary of War, the 
usual papers indorsed by all the military 
officers through whose hands it passed 
in the usual 'Ted tape" style with as 
much formality, and through precisely 
the same channels as if it had been a 
claim for a million dollars. To those 
readers of the Granite Monthly who 
have been surfeited with partisan 
harangues, and have patiently waded 
through all the dreary twaddle of con- 
gressional debate, the following report 
of the House Committee upon Private 
Hines' trousers, is recommended as an 
antidote, with the writer's assurance 
that they will search the annals of Con- 
gress in vain for a parallel : 

The Committee on Military Affairs, to 
whom was referred the bill (H. E. Xo. 
4007), for the relief of Private William 
Ilines. Company F. Eighteenth United 
States Infantry, having hud the same un- 
der consideration, submit the following 
report : 

The evidence is conclusive that Hines 

was a member of the company and regi- 
ment referred to. and that he lost his 
trousers and blanket bv lire on or about 
the 11th d;;y of October. A. P. 1&6-. 
while serving with his command at 
Aiken. South Carolina. 

The time, place, and circumstances 
under which this loss occurred deserve 
much more than a mere passing notice. 
It was the year of the presidential elec- 
tion, and but one brief month prior to the 
time when the freemen of the Republic 
were called upon to cast their ballots for 
the men. or rather the electors of their 
choice. The air was filled with the elo- 
quence of orators, both STorth and South, 
who spoke and labored for the success of 
their candidates. The propriety, not to 
say the constitutionality, of the presence 
of Federal troops in the southern section 
of our beloved country was a question 
that entered largely into the discussion 
of the day. Upon this subject there was 
then, as now. great difference of opinion ; 
and without committing themselves up- 
on this disputed point your committee 
find unanimously that Hines was there 
by order of the legally-con stitivted au- 
thorities : that he wore the usual and or- 
dinary uniform of the private soldier; 
that lie lost his trousers and blanket as 
set forth in the bill for his relief; that 
the loss occurred by tire; that a board 
of survey was called upon them, and 
that, in the language of that tribunal, 
• ■ they were damaged to their full value, " 
amounting to 88.65. 

Your committee also find that this 
same board expressed the opinion that 
the lire was accidental; "that it origi- 
nated at the top of the tent, " and u that 
no one was to blame. " There is no di- 
rect testimony upon this point, but it is 
fair to assume that nines was lying 
down in his tent enjoying needed repose 
after a day's labor in asserting and main- 
taining the sovereignty of the General 
Government. It is true that those who 
seek to hold him responsible refer to the 
general and careless use of the pipe by 
our weary warriors ; and others have at- 
tempted to account for the catastrophe 
by calling attention to the dangerous 
habit of soldiers carrying matches in 
their trousers" pockets. Both of these 
theories, although plausible, are rejected 
by your committee ; and after patient in- 
vestigation they are of the opinion that 
the fire originated in some unaccountable 
manner. If, as is altogether probable, 
Hine3 was recumbent in his tent, the 
conclusion is almost irresistible that he 
had disrobed and placed his blouse and 
trousers on the convenient and useful 
cracker-box; the progress of the flames 
from the top of the tent, where they orig- 
inated, to his soldierly couch, doubtless 



aroused him from his reverie or sleep; 
ami while the evidence is not entirely 
satisfactory on this point, your commit- 
<.:..-•.• ;.n« of the opinion that lime? hi his 
zeal to right the tire and save Govern- 
ment property lost both trousers and 

"With this view of the case your com- 
mittee accept the rinding of the board of 
survey and discharge him from responsi- 
bility. Xo specific recommendations ap- 
pear in their report, but through some 
misapprehension a gratuitous issue of 
trousers and blanket was made to him. 
As events proved, this was a fatal mis- 
take. His commanding officer, miscon- 
struing a m^re suggestion, and perhaps 
unwilling that Hines should appear be- 
fore the people of Aiken, trouserless. or. 
concluding that the honor and dignity of 
the United States would be put in jeop- 
ardy by his appearing on duty in a pair 
"damaged to their "full value." made 
proper haste to rehabilitate him. 

From this time limes vanishes from 
the scene. How he disported himself in 
his new trousers nowhere appears. Un- 
consciously he had performed a great 
service to the Army and the country by 
causing an authoritative decision on a 
matter that hud been involved in donbt. 
The question of a gratuitous issue of 
clothing is now settled, and while Hines 
may be indifferent to the trouble he has 
given captains, colonels, major generals. 
a Secretary of War, and a congressional 
committee, he can content himself with 
the reflect ion that he has neither worn 
nor lost his trousers in vain. 

In conclusion, your committee desire 
to call attention to the fact that they 
have devoted much time and thought to 
this case. The papers are voluminous, 
containing no less than seven distinct in- 
dorsements, commencing with a captain 
and concluding with the Secretary of 
War, who. in a communication to the 
Speaker of the House of Representatives, 
asks for the relief of Hines; or. to use 
his own well-chosen words, ••requests 
the sanction of Congress for the issuing 
of said clothing to said Hines. " 

This communication is marked "A" 
and made a part of this report. 

It is In no vainglorious spirit that your 
committee state that whatever delay 
there has been in this matter the blame 
does not attach to them. 

The trouble with Hines began nearly 
eighteen months since, and the papers 
only reached the hands of your commit- 
tee a few days ago; and in placing the 
final determination of the question 
with the Representatives of the people, 
they feel that they are discharged from 
further responsibility. They cannot,, 
however, dismiss tile subject without 

calling attention to the almost perfect 
system of checks and guards thrown 
around the issuing of Government prop- 
erty. The thoughtless may call it •• red- 
tape, "or circiuaio .-mem. hm wirhour it, 
Hines today would be in undisputed pos- 
session of a pair of trousers and a blanket 
to which he would have no legal title. 
As it is. the system has been vindicated, 
the right of the United States to Hines' 
trousers fully established, and his per- 
sonal and pecuniary responsibility deter- 

Under all the circumstances, your 
committee recommend the passage of the 

After all, the bill failed, with numer- 
ous others to reach the President, and 
the great question still remains unset- 

In order to convey some idea of the 
amount of money required to carry on 
the Government, the following table of 
statistics compiled from official docu- 
ments are given, showing the sums ap- 
propriated in each of the eleven regu- 
lar annual appropriation bills. 


First and Second Sessions. 
Military Academy bill $282,805.30 








Paver and Harbor 



Snndry Civil 


Arrearages of Pensions 






Third Session. 












20 807,200.00 



$173,308,105.79 £141,998,179.79 

fJs'ot yet published. 

In comparison of the above totals it 
should be remembered that the Army, 
and Legislative bills, had they become 
laws, would have added about $45,- 
000,000 more to column of the "Third 
Session" ; and the Arrearages of Pen- 
sions bill was an extraordinary appro- 
priation, unlike any in the preceding 
Congresses. The Sundry Civil bill of 
the Second Session, also, was increased 
$5,500,000 by the Halifax fishery 
award, and the large Deficiency bill of 
over fourteen millions was ten or eleven 
millions above its normal amount, in 
consequence of deficiences extending 
over a period 'of several years previous. 

Among the prominent measures, 



aside from the appropriation bills that 
came before the Forty-fifth Congress 
for consideration, was a bill granting 
relief to the soldiers and sailors of the 
war of 1S12; a bill to reimburse the 
trustees of the College of William and 
Mary for property destroyed during the 
late war ; a bill for the relief of soldiers 
and sailors who served in the war with 
Mexico ; a bill " to authorize the free 
coinage of the standard silver dollar, 
and to restore its legal tender charac- 
ter, " known as "the silver bill;" a bill 
reorganizing the government of the 
District of Columbia ; a bill providing 
for the reorganization of the army ; a 
bill in relation to Pacific railroads ; a 
bill to revise the patent laws ; a bill to 
prevent the introduction of contagious 
and epidemic diseases into the United 
States ; the Geneva Award bill ; a 
bill to restrict Chinese immigra- 
tion, and many others of greater or 
less importance. Of the few alluded 
to above, the bills relating to Mexican 
war pensions, the army reorganization, 
the Geneva Award, the revision 
of the patent laws, William and 
Mary College, epidemic diseases, 
and Chinese immigration, all failed to 
become laws — the latter being vetoed 
by the President. All the rest were ap- 
proved except the "silver bill,"- which 

was passed over the President's veto, 
and thus became a law. Of measures 
political the " Potter resolutions " in 
the House, and the appointment of tha 
" Teller Committee " in the Senaie. 
were the most important. In the House 
the Potter resolutions were debated for 
several days, and " filibustering " re- 
sorted to to defeat their passage, which 
was finally secured by just a quorum, 
the Republicans refusing to vote. The 
history of these political committees 
being so well known, and their appoint- 
ment of such recent origin, it is not 
deemed advisable to further allude to 
them here. 

The third and final session of the 
Forty-Fifth Congress closed amid 
scenes of considerable excitement, a: 
noon on the fourth of March, 1879, 
leaving two appropriation bills that 
failed to pass. These were the army, 
and the legislative, executive and judi- 
cial bills, upon which the conference 
committees could not agree, and so re- 
ported at the last hour. The amount 
involved in the two bills aggregated 
about $45,000,000; and the Forty- 
Sixth Congress, like the one of which a 
brief mention herewith closes, com- 
mences with an extra session to remedy 
the failure. 


The recent retirement of Messrs. 
Carleton & Harvey from the proprietor- 
ship of the Argus and Spectator news- 
paper at Newport, is a matter suggest- 
ive of far greater interest than usually 
attaches to changes in the control of 
county papers in our state. These gen- 
tlemen — Henry G. Carleton, and Mat- 
thew Harvey — had been editors and 
publishers of this paper for a period of 
nearly forty years, assuming the pro- 

prietorship January 1, 1840, and retir- 
ing therefrom April 1, 1879. It may 
be safely asserted that the entire histo- 
ry of the state furnishes no other exam- 
ple of equally long-continued, uninter- 
rupted newspaper proprietorship and 
editorial management combined. And 
not alone from its long duration and 
unchanging character may the journal- 
istic career of these men be regarded 
as remarkable and unique. Entering 



the office of the same paper, as appren- 
tices together in boyhood, they learned 
the printer's trade, side by side, and 
worked together, harmoniously in the 
same way from first to last. By an ar- 
rangement entered into in the outset, 
when the establishment came into their 
hands, the editorial work was done by 
the two alternately, one editing the 
paper one week and the other the next, 
which arrangement was followed out 
without interruption to the close, Mr. 
Harvey acting as editor the first week 
of their proprietorship, and, in regular 
order, the last week also. 

The early history of this paper was 
almost as remarkable for changes in 
proprietorship and management, as its 
after history for the reverse. The 
"Spectator" was established at Clare- 
mont, in August, 1823, by Cyrus Bar- 
ton, who subsequently became well 
known as an able writer and a promi- 
nent Democratic politician. In January 
1825, the paper was removed to 
Newport, and was there published by 
Mr. Barton, as sole proprietor, until Sep- 
tember of the following year, when 
Dunbar Aldrich, a practical printer and 
a brother-in-law of the late venerable 
John Prentiss of the Keene Sentinel, 
became a partner in the concern. This 
partnership continued until April, 1829, 
when Mr. Aldrich withdrew, and 
Messrs. B. B. French and Cyrus Met- 
calf, the former a lawyer who came to 
Newport from the town of Chester, and 
the latter a printer, became Mr. Bar- 
ton's partners in the business. Not 
long after Mr. Barton himself withdrew 
to assume an editorial connection with 
the New Hampshire Patriot at Con- 
cord, and the paper was conducted by 
French and ' Metcalf. This partner- 
ship was also of short duration, Mr. 
Metcalf going out, and Mr. Simon 
Brown a printer, and a brother-in-law 
of French, also from Chester, coming 
into the concern, which was then man- 
aged under the firm name of French 
and Brown. A few years later Mr. 
French disposed of his interest to his 
partner, removing to Washington, D. 
C, and Mr. Brown became sole editor 
and proprietor. About this time the 

"Argus" another Democratic paper, 
was established at Claremont, by a 
company of gentlemen, and Edmund 
Burke, then a young lav\\cr, who had 
been in practice two or three years at 
Whitefield, became its editor. Mr. 
Brown not giving satisfaction to many 
of the Democrats of Newport, they 
soon secured the removal of the Argus 
to Newport. This was in 1835. The 
two papers were run independently for 
a few months, when Mr. Brown sold 
out the " Spectator, " the same being 
united with the Argus under the name 
of the Argus and Spectator, (by which it 
has ever since been known) , the proprie- 
torship being in a company of several 
gentlemen, mostly residents of New- 
port, and one of whom was Mr. Burke 
its editor, by whom it was conducted 
until his election to Congress a few 
years later, when the paper passed into 
the hands of Henry C. Baldwin and 
William English, two practical printers. 
Mr. English soon left to assume a po- 
sition in the Boston Custom House, 
and Samuel C. Baldwin, a brother of 
Henry E., became a partner in the 
concern, which was, however, soon after 
sold to Messrs. Carleton and Harvey, 
who had learned and followed the 
printer's trade in the office, as has been 
suggested, entering in 1831, when 
French and Brown were proprietors. 

In the seventeen years from the com- 
mencement of the paper in Claremont, 
till it passed into the hands of Messrs, 
Carleton and Harvey, nine different 
men had been actively engaged in its 
management — all men of more than 
ordinary ability, and several of whom 
acquired distinguished reputation in 
public life. Mr. Barton, the founder 
of the paper, was a State Senator and 
Councillor, State Printer, U. S. Mar- 
shal, and a member of the Constitu- 
tional Convention of 1850. He fell 
dead while making a political speech 
in the town of Loudon in the campaign 
of 1855. B. B. French became clerk 
of the National House of Representa- 
tives, and held various other offices at 
Washington, where he died in 1870. 
Simon Brown, who was subsequently 
editor of the New England Farmer, at 


Boston, served in both branches of the 
Massachusetts Legislature and was 
elected lieuteaaiit Governor c" fchat 
State. Edmund Burke, whose trench- 
ant pen, won for the paper and himself 
an extended reputation in a very short 
time, was six years a member of Con- 
gress and subsequently Commissioner 
of Patents, under the administration of 
President Polk. Afterwards he was for 
a time editor of the Washington Union. 
As a ready and vigorous political writer 
he has had few if any equals — certain- 
ly no superiors in the country. Of all 
those engaged in the management of 
the paper, previous to the late proprie- 
tors, Mr. Burke alone survives. 

Messrs. Carleton and Harvey went 
from the town of Sutton to Newport, 
when they became apprentices in the 
Spectator office. Mr. Carleton was a 
native of Bucksport, Me., born in Nov. 
1813, but had removed to Sutton, when 
about ten years of age, where Mr. Har- 
vey was bora in Jan., 1S15. The two 
are cousins, their mothers being sisters, 
whose maiden name was Greeley — half 
cousins of the illustrious journalist, 
Horace Greeley. The late Hon. 
Matthew Harvey of Concord, promi- 
nent in the history and politics of the 
State, and Jonathan Harvey of Sutton, 
also a member of Congress, were un- 
cles of Mr. Harvey. Hon. George A. 
Pillsbury, formerly Mayor of Concord, 

now of Minneapolis, Minn., is a broth- 
er-in-law of Mr. Carleton, having mar- 
ried his sister. 

Under their protracted management, 
the Argus and Spectator well main- 
tained its reputation as a reliable ex- 
ponent and advocate of the principles 
of the Democratic party, while, individ- 
ually, each has held prominent and in- 
fluential positions in the community of 
which they are now respected mem- 
bers. Mr. Carleton was Register of 
Deeds for the county of Sullivan in 
1844 and 1 84 5, and was appointed 
Register of Probate in 1854, being re- 
moved the following year upon the ac- 
cession of the opposite party to power. 
He was also a member of the Legisla- 
ture from Newport in 1853. Mr. Har- 
vey held the office of Register of Deeds 
for five years, from 1S46 to 1S51. 

The period covered by their news- 
paper proprietorship has been, indeed, 
a long and eventful one, witnessing great 
changes in national and state history. 
At its commencement there was not a 
railroad line in the state, and the tele- 
graph was unknown. Of the more 
than fifty weekly newspapers now pub- 
lished in New Hampshire, not more 
than eight or ten have a history cover- 
ing this period, and of these not a sin- 
gle one remains in the hands which 
then controled it. 






Barbara Clay lived all alone in a lit- 
tle cottage toward the lower end of the 

small village of R . Just opposite 

her humble home, stood the church 
wherein she worshipped, and every 
Sabbath, rain or shine, summer or win- 
ter, found her in her accustomed seat, ' 
listening intently to the good words 
which fell from Parson Downs' lips. 
She was apparently somewhere in the 
vicinity of forty years of age, and ai- ' 
though she bore her years lightly, and 
the rippling brown hair was guiltless of 
a silver thread, her dark blue eyes were 
filled with a tender, mournful expres- 
sion, and the sensitive mouth wore a 
look of subdued sorrow. She had 
come a perfect stranger nineteen years 
before, into this secluded village, and 
purchased the cottage which had ever 
since been her home. She mingled 
but little with her neighbors, and with 
the exception of attending church, was 
seldom seen away from home, unless 
it was to care for the sick and dying. 
The simple old-fashioned villagers re- 
spected and loved her. People said 
she had a story, but what it was they 
did not undertake to tell. 

One dark, rainy. afternoon in April, 
the lumbering yellow stage-coach drew 
up in front of the tavern, and the driver 
alighting from his elevated seat, ap- 
proached his only passenger and said, 
with a low bow, " Where did you wish 
to stop, Miss ; I believe you didn't state 
any partikler place, so I brought you 
to the tavern." A swCet, girlish voice 
replied, " I wish to know if a lady by 
the name of Barbara Clay resides in 
this village." "Yes, ma'am, she 
does, " replied the driver. "Then, if 
you please, I will go directly to her 
home. " The driver hastened back to 
his place, and gathering up his reins, 
drove on, leaving the knot of villagers 

in front of the tavern gazing in surprise 
after the departing vehicle. The com- 
ing of a young lady into their midst, 
and to see Barbara Clay of all persons, 
was an event, and it was something to 
wonder over and talk about, so when 
the stage-coach came slowly back 
again the driver found quite a crowd 
awaiting him, eager for a description of 
the stranger. "Don't know nothin 
'bout her ; I didn't see her face for she 
wore a vail over it. She got aboard 
the stage at Day's tavern, that's all I 
know about her." This explanation, 
as may be supposed, did not go tar to- 
ward allaying their curiosity. In the 
meantime the young girl who had al- 
lighted from the coach in front of Miss 
Clay's cottage, stood patiently awaiting 
an answer to her repeated knocks upon 
the door. She was short and slight, 
with brown hair and dark blue eyes. 
Her dress was a rusty black alpaca ; 
a coarse heavy black shawl and black 
straw hat trimmed with black ribbon, 
completed her attire. She had re- 
moved her well-worn vail, which she 
held in one slender ungloved hand ; in 
the other she carried a small travelling 
bag. At length the door . opened and 
Miss Barbara stood before her. "Are 
you Miss Barbara Clay?" questioned 
the girl, raising her eyes to the lady's 
face. " I am — will you please walk 
in," replied the lady, not without some 
surprise, as she turned and led the 
way into her small, neat sitting-room, 
where she placed a chair for her guest, 
and seated herself near by. As she did 
so her eyes fell upon a ring which the 
girl wore upon the third finger of her 
left hand. It was an old-fashioned 
ring, with two hearts linked together, 
and the initials B and C engraved be- 
neath. She had in her possession a 
ring precisely like it, although for near- 
ly twenty years she had not worn it. 



Her face turned very pale and her 
voice trembled as she said, "Young 
bdy. will you tell me your name?" 

*"My name is Etta Arnold, and if I 
mistake not you are my aunt Barbara," 
replied the girl with some hesitation. 

For a moment the lady's face flushed 
crimson, and then the color receded, 
leaving her deathly pale as she sprang 
to her feet exclaiming, "Why are you 
here girl. Do you not know that your 
very presence is an insult to me?" 

The girl half rose to her feet and 
then sunk back again, saving in a husky 
voice, "Oh, aunt Barbara, how can it 
be ? I have never harmed you. " 

"You do not know the wrong your 
parents did me then," said the lady 

"I only know that in dying, my 
mother bade me go to you and ask 
your protection, and also to tell you 
of her continued love for you. I do 
not think she ever knowingly harmed 
you. Had you said my father had 
wronged you I should not have felt the 
least surprise, for he was capable of 
everything that was bad," said the 
girl bitterly. " Since my presence is 
not desired here, I will go at once," 
she continued, arising and turning to- 
ward the door. 

"No, sit down ; I wish to ask you 
a few questions ; Is your father liv- 

"No, he died three years ago," re- 
plied the girl. 

"And you have no money, no 
home, " said the lady, looking at the 
well-worn clothes of her niece. 

"I have nothing, and no one in the 
world to care for me, except you and 
my father's brother, " replied the girl, 
with a burst of tears. 

"You would be much better off with- 
out his assistance than with it, I am 
thinking," returned the lady. 

" He promised to provide a place for 
me as soon as possible, but I preferred 
coming to you as my mother requested 
me to do." 

" How did your mother learn where 
I resided ? " inquired the lady. 

" She did not know, she told me to 
go to L , her native place, suppos- 

ing if you were yet living, I should find 
you there. I mentioned her request 
to my uncle, and he told me thafe my 
grandparents and uncle Oscar were 
dead, and no one knew anything con- 
cerning you whatever," answered the 

"How then did you discover my 

" Do you recollect a lady, Mrs. Eaton 
by name, who was ill here at the hotel 
some three years since ? She came here 
to dispose of some land belonging to 
her, and was taken sick." 

"Certainly I do," replied Barbara, 

"You cared for her and doubtless 
saved her life. After my unci's de- 
parture I mentioned your name to her, 
and she told me that a lady of that 
name lived in the village of R , sit- 
uated in New Hampshire. That you 
resided alone, and so far as she knew 
were without relations. By her advice 
I started immediately for your home, 
and here I am. I had no thought but 
that I should be welcome, " concluded 
the girl in a husky voice. 

" I do not mean to be unkind, but 
you do not know girl the wound your 
coming has reopened. I was learning 
to forget and I am sorry you came ; 
however, since you are here I will try 
and make you comfortable. How 
strange that Mrs. Eaton should know 
you. Did you live near her?" 

"She owned the house where my 
mother died and where we had lived 
for two years — that is we occupied two 
rooms in it. She was our only friend 
and the kindest lady I ever knew. 
Had it not been for her we must have 
starved, for I could not get work to 
take home with me, and I could not 
leave mother alone, " answered Etta. 

Barbara's eyes filled with tears as she 
arose and approaching the girl began 
to remove her outer garments, saying 
at the same time, " I have been too 
harsh with you my poor child. Will 
you forgive me?" 

"Oh, aunt Barbara, I have nothing 
to forgive, but I will love you all my 
life, if you will let me stay with you, " 
replied the girl, bursting into tears. 



"There, there, my child do not weep, 
I shall not send you away. Draw your 
Cuair near the nre, and while yon ore 
warming, I will prepare you some sup- 
per, " said Barbara, as she left the room. 
Not immediately did she begin her 
preparations for tea for her guest, how- 
ever, for she sank down beside the 
window in her kitchen, and burying 
her face in her hands, burst into tears. 
It had all come back to her — the 
shame and agony of the day when she 
had found the sister she loved so dear- 
ly, the man she had reverenced above 
all others, alike false and unworthy of 
a single thought from her. She could 
see it all. The bright June day so fair 
and sweet, the air heavy with the per- 
fume of flowers, the songs of thousands 
of birds, making the world seem so 
lively. She remembered how she had 
stood in the window of her room and 
listened to their songs, and wondered 
if anywhere in the world theie was an- 
other creature so blest, so happy as 
herself, upoi* this her wedding morn. 
She had wondered as the moments 
passed on, that her sister Clarice did 
not come .to her, and inquiring of her 
mother the cause, was told that she had 
retired the night before with a severe 
headache, and had not yet arisen. Then 
she had let them prepare her for her 
bridal, her pure heart full of happiness. 
The ceremony was to be performed at 
eleven, and when at length she stood 
ready, she glanced at her watch and 
saw that it was not quite half past ten. 
" I am going to surprise Clarice, " she 
said to her bridesmaids, and with a 
gay, happy smile on her lips, she had 
stolen softly along the wide hall to her 
sister's room. She opened the door 
quickly, expecting to find her sister put- 
ting the finishing touches to her own 
toilet. To her surprise the room was 
in great disorder. Articles of wearing 
apparel were strewn about, lying upon 
the bed and upon chairs. Boxes stood 
open ; in a word everything betokened 
that some unusual event had taken 
place, but her sister was not there. 
Approaching the dressing case she stood 
looking in surprise at the empty jewel- 
ry case which stood thereon, when "her 

eye fell upon a letter directed to her- 
self. Fearing, she knew not what, she 
opened it and read as follows : 

" Dear Sister. Forgive me for caus- 
ing you* one moment's pain. All these 
weeks while you have been so happy, 
my heart has been full of deepest sor- 
row, but it is to end tonight. My 
Leonard and I are going away together, 
and before twenty-four hours have 
passed, I shall be his wife. I have de- 
liberately chasen my path in life, and 
come weal or woe. shall abide by it. 
We knew that father and mother would 
never consent to our marriage, and 
have kept our love a secret from every- 
one. If we can be forgiven, an adver- 
tisement inserted in the Herald will 
bring us back, otherwise you will never 
again see your erring sister Clarice. " 

They had found Barbara lying sense- 
less upon the floor with the cruel letter 
crushed in her hand, and every hope 
crushed out of her life. She remem- 
bered but dimly the events of the next 
three months, for a portion of the time 
she was ill with brain fever. Then, as 
she at length gradually came back to a 
knowledge of life, and realized the 
shame that her once idolized sister had 
brought upon them all, she secluded 
herself, keeping aloof from her ac- 
quaintances. Then came the terrible 
fever that swept down so many victims, 
her parents and only brother Oscar, 
among the first, and she was left alone. 
Rallying from the stupor of despair that 
at first overwhelmed her, she thr,ew her- 
self into the very midst of the pesti- 
lence, and her watchful care brought 
life and health to more than one poor 
victim. When at length the worst was 
over and she was at liberty to remain 
at home, she found the old house too 
full of sorrowful reminders of her hap- 
py past to be endured, so she had sold 
the place with all its furniture to a young 
couple recently married, and then she 
had left her once happy home, leaving 
no trace behind her. She had taken 
with her an elderly lady — Mrs. Lane by 
name, who like herself had been bereft 
of friends by the epidemic, and togeth- 
er they had lived in the village of 
R until Mrs. Lane's death. 



For five years Barbara had dwelt 
there alone, and now this young girl, 
claiming to be her niece, the offspring 
of that guilty couple — her sister and 
Leonard Arnold— had come to her claim- 
ing her protection. Could she ever 
love her ? " Forgive us our trespasses 
as we forgive those who trespass against 
us, " she murmured softly. After all 
the girl was not to blame, and she 
would try and love her at least, and so, 
arising, she bathed her .face — which, 
however, bore traces of her grief when 
she re-entered the sitting-room, bear- 
ing tea and toast for her unwelcome 


Two months have come and gone, 
and the bright June days have come 
once more. The villagers have ascer- 
tained that the young lady who had 
come into their midst on that rainy 
April day is named Etta Arnold, and 
that she is Barbara Clay's niece. She 
goes and comes in and out among 
them with a kind word for everyone 
who addresses her, but her face is very 
sad, and she seldom smiles. It has 
been decided that she shall remain 
with her aunt, and Barbara is besinninsr 
to love the girl who is always so eager 
to please her and so gentle and fair. 
It is a lovely evening. The full moon 
is shining brightly, and the simple little 
village looks very peaceful, nestled in 
between high hills that rise on either 
side. It has become very dear to her 
— this 'home of her adoption, and Bar- 
bara thinks she shall never leave it 
while her saddened life lasts, and at its 
close she will be lain away in yonder 
cemetery whose simple headstones she 
can see shining in the moonlight. Etta 
has taken a walk over to the post- 
office, and her aunt sits by the window 
watching for her return. At length she 
sees her coming, walking rapidly up 
the path from the road. As she enters 
the house she says, in a glad voice, "At 
last, dear auntie, I have received my 
long looked for letter, and by its size I 
think I shall be repaid for waiting." 

" I am very glad my dear. You can 
light the lamp at once. " 

Etta hastens to the kitchen and soon 
returns bearing a lighted lamp, and 
with an eagerness unusual to her, seats 
herself to read her letter. Barbara 
watches her and smiles to herself as she 
sees the girl's face light up with sudden 
joy as she reads. " She has a lover, 
and I shall lose her, when I prize her 
most, " she thinks to herself, the smile 
dying away as she thinks how hard it 
will be to part with her. Etta rapidly 
scans page after page and her aunt no- 
tices that one sheet is carefully lain 
aside unread, and wonders at it. At 
length, Etta arises and extinguishing 
the light, says, "Aunt Barbara this 
moonlight is too lovely not to be en- 
joyed, " and drawing a hassock to her 
aunt's feet she seats herself thereon. 

" You are happier tonight than I have 
ever seen you before my dear. I hope 
you will always be so in the future. I 
have often thought you must be very 
unhappy with me, you always seem so 
sad," said Barbara, stroking the girl's 
hair tenderly. 

" I am happy here with you aunt 
Barbara, and I do not think I am very 
sad. I was always different from other 
girls, for my life has been full of 
trouble, " she replied sadly. 

" You are so different from your 
mother, my dear. She was all joy and 
brightness, you are just the reverse, " 
continued the lady. 

"I can not remember the time that 
my mother was otherwise than sad. 
You have no idea of the unhappy life 
she led, " returned Etta, in a choking 

For several moments the silence re- 
mained unbroken, then Barbara said 
gently, " Etta, I have refrained from ask- 
ing you any questions concerning your 
parents, for your sake as well as my 
own, but tonight I feel that I would like 
to know something more concerning 
them. I hope Leonard Arnold was not 
unkind to the young girl he tempted 
away from her happy home, " she con- 
cluded bitterly. 

For several moments Etta made no 
reply, then she said in a voice slightly 
tremulous, " Aunt Barbara I have a 
story to tell you which, however, I have 


5 « ■» 

not really understood myself until I re- 
ceived my long expected letter tonight. 
Dear aunt Barbara. " she cvurinued, 
caressing the little hand she held in her 
own, " you have been laboring under a 
cruel mistake ever since that morning, 
so long ago. that was to have seen you 
Leonard Clayton Arnold's bride. " 

" Etta, what can you mean, " asked 
the lady in a tone of surprise. 

" Did you ever have a thought that 
your sister cared for Clayton Leonard 
Arnold, twin brother to your lover? " 

" No, Etta, most assuredly I never 
did. How could she ? for although he 
was .Leonard's exact counterpart in 
looks, he was just the reverse in every- 
thing else. In a word he was a spend- 
thrift, a gambler, and all that was bad. 
I cannot understand your meaning 
Etta. " 

The moonbeams rested upon Etta's 
face, showing it deadly pale, and her 
voice was full of pain as she replied, 
"Aunt Barbara what you say of Clay- 
ton Arnold is true, but it is neverthe- 
less true that he was my mother's hus- 
band and my father. They were mar- 
ried the day after she left her home. 
I have their marriage certificate and 
can prove what I am saying, " said the 
girl in a low, firm voice. 

"Then in Heaven's name why did 
she call him Leonard in her letter to 
me, and where, oh where was Leonard ? " 

"I do not positively know why she 
called him Leonard in writing you, but 
knowing as I do that she thoroughly 
disliked the name of Clayton, she had 
formed the habit of calling him Leonard, 
during their stolen visits, and therefore 
in the excitement of going away used 
the name unthinkingly. If I have 
been rightly informed — and I think I 
have — Leonard had been absent on 
business for two weeks, but was to re- 
turn to L the night before the 

wedding. He did so and as he stepped 
from the train, he saw his brother and 
your sister just entering the forward 
car. With only one thought, and that 
to save her from such a mad act, he 
followed them. It was in vain, how- 
ever, that he expostulated and even 
threatened, they were married as I told 

He only went ' with 
far as the citv of 
>-ired that Oavton 
her, and not 
prevent it, he 
•. When but a 

you the next day. 
them, however, as 

,\ . f or being assure.- 

really intended to many- 
having any authority to 

started to return to L 

few miles from A a serious railroad 

accident occurred, and uncle Leonard 
was terribly injured. For three mpndis, 
while you was thinking him false :o 
you, he lay utterly unconscious, in a. 
poor laborer's hut not fifty miles from 

L . Then when he came slowly 

back to life again and discovered that 
three months had elapsed since the day 
which was to have been his weeding 
day, he fretted himself into a rever 
which again brought him nearly to the 
grave. When he at length began once 
more to recover he wrote to you. but at 

that time the fever was raging at L , 

and you never received the letter. 
When he was able to travel he hastened 
to your old home at once, only to find 
you gone no one knew where. He 
searched for you, advertised for yoa in 
vain. Aunt Barbara my uncle Leonard 
is still living. He has never married. 
The letter I received tonight was from 
him in answer to one I wrote him soon 
after I came here. I have never seen 
him but once, and then only for a few 
moments soon after my mother's death. 
He gave me fifty dollars and desired 
me to remain with Mrs. Eaton until he 
could make arrangements for having 
me sent to school. The night before 
my mother died she told me hew she 
had left her home and how bitterly she 
had always regretted it. She knew you 
had not married Leonard, and sur posed 
her own marriage to have been the 
cause of a quarrel between you. Father 
had kept our whereabouts a secret from 
his brother, as he had forged his name 
soon after his marriage, thereby secur- 
ing a thousand dollars. Mother desired 
me to write to him and tell him of my 
destitute condition, thinking that ss he 
is very wealthy he would assist me ro 
go to you. He came to me at once. 
and I had only to see him to love him 
dearly. In the box of old loners you 
gave me to overlook the week after I 
came here, I found the letter my mother 



wrote you ere she left her home. Not 
wishing to ask you anything in regard 
to the subject as T saw you avoided it. 
I wrote to uncle Leonard and enclosed 
a copy of the letter. And now I will 
leave you with his reply, and a letter 
for you which was enclosed in mine. 
Good night, dear aunt Barbara." 

As Etta concluded she arose and 
throwing her arms around her aunt's 
neck, she pressed a kiss upon her brow, 
and stole softly from the room. Hour 
after hour passed and still Barbara sat 
there in the moonlight. Could it be 
true, this strange story her niece had 
told her. It seemed too much like a 
romance — such mistakes often hap- 
pened in them, but in real life — never. 
And yet there were many circumstances 
that went to prove the strange story to 
be true. She remembered many inci- 
dents that had occurred at the time of 

Clayton Arnold's stay in L , which 

should have told her the truth at the 
time. Yes, it must have been a mis- 
take. How she had wronged her sis- 
ter and Leonard all these years. The 
dawn of another day found her still sit- 
ting with his letter in her hand unread. 
It had been joy enough just at first for 
her to know that he had never been 
untrue to her. When, an hour after 
dawn, Etta came quietly into the room, 
her aunt arose and came forward to 
greet her with a face so full of joy that 
all the impress of grief her long suffer- 
ing had placed there was effaced and 
Etta hardly recognized the voice that 
spoke to her, so full of happiness was 
it as she said, "He will be with us soon 
my dear, perhaps today, as he intended 
starting immediately after writing this 
letter. I can hardly realize the truth 
yet, it seems like a dream. " 

She said no more, and during the 
next few days she never once alluded 
to the subject, but kept quietly on in 
the same old routine of household 
duties. At length upon the fourth day 
after receiving the letter announcing 
Leonard Arnold's intended visit, as Bar- 
bara sat by her favorite window, a tall, 
gentlemanly form came slowly up the 
flower-bordered pathway to the door, 
and a moment later there came a low 

knock. Trembling like a frightened 
schoolgirl. Barbara arose to answer the 
summons. She opened the door, and 
stood face to face with her old lover. 
There was an eager, searching look in- 
to the tearful blue eyes raised to his 
face, and then the little hands were 
caught in a strong, firm clasp, and the 
words, " Barbara at last, thank God," 
and then he entered the little cottage 
and the door was closed. It chanced 
that Etta was away when he arrived, 
but when she returned two hours later 
she found a very happy couple awaiting 
her. "My dear," said her uncle, 
drawing her to his side, " we owe all 
our present happiness to you, for if it 
had not been for you I would never 
have found your aunt. I was away 
from home when your letter reached 
the city*, therefore did not receive it un- 
til I returned home six weeks after its 
arrival. I was delayed three days by 
the sudden death of my partner, but I 
am here at last. And now Etta you 
must help me to prevail upon your 
aunt for a speedy wedding. I have 
waited nearly twenty years — it will be 
just twenty next Sabbath — and I think 
I should have my reward. Your aunt 
thinks she cannot possibly be ready in 
four days, but I insist that she can and 
you must help her." 

" That I will dear uncle. We shall 
have ample time for what little prepara- 
tion is really necessary, " replied Etta, 
her face beaming with joy. 

And so it came about that upon the 
next Sabbath a small bridal party con- 
sisting of Leonard Arnold and Barbara 
Clay, accompanied by Etta Arnold and 
the aged clergyman's sweet-faced 
granddaughter, entered the little church 
where the simple service was performed 
that made Barbara Clay the wife of 
Leonard Arnold, and the happiest woman 
the sun ever shone upon. The day 
following, Mrs. Arnold presented the 
good clergyman w r ith a deed of the lit- 
tle cottage and its furniture, and bidding 
adieu to the village which had so long 
been her home, she and her husband, 
accompanied by Etta, set out for the 
elegant home awaiting them *in a dis- 
tant city. In the sunlight of her un- 



cle's home Etta soon became light- while Barbara resting content in the 
hearted and joyous, in a measure for- love of Her noble husband, finds perfect 
r umu ihe troubles of her early life, happiness at last — After Many Years. 


[From the Farmers' Monthly Visitor, conducted hy Isaac Hill, October, 1839.] 

Connecticut River, meaning in the 
Indian language, "the stream of many 
waters," passes the forty-fourth degree 
and thirty minutes of North Latitude 
and fifth degree and twenty-eight min- 
utes East Longitude in a south westerly 
direction, being the north westerly 
boundary of the town of Lancaster, 
ten miles, exclusive of its windings, 
which are so remarkable that the coun- 

*Hon. Joint W. Weeks, the writer of 
this sketch, and a prominent citizen of 
Lancaster, was a native of the town of 
Greenland, but removed in childhood with 
his father to Lancaster. His occupation 
was that of a house carpenter, hut he 
took much interest in public and military 
affairs. In the war of 1812. he raised a 
company for the 11th Regiment, U. S. 
Infantry, which he commanded with 
credit. He was brevetted for gallant ser- 
vice at Chippewa, and commissioned 
Major at the close of the war. He lived 
thereafter upon a farm in Lancaster until 
his death in 1853. He was a State Sena- 
tor in 1827 and 1S2^. served with Ichabod 
Bartlett and others on the Xew Hamp- 
shire and Maine Boundary Commission 
in 1828. and was a member of Congress 
one term, from 1829 to 16.U. lie also 
occupied the offices of Sheriff and 
Treasurer of the County of Coos. He 
left no children. He Mas an uncle to 
William D. Weeks of Lancaster, present 
Judge of Probate for the County of Coos, 
who now occupies the farm which he 
formerly owned, and also to Hon. James 
W. Weeks, a prominent citizen of Lan- 
caster. In politics he was an ardent 
Democrat, or rather Republican as the 
party was then called (as will readily be 
seen from certain expressions in this 
sketch) and was the political associate 
of such men as Jared W. Williams, John 
S. Wells and John II. White. 

try adjacent obtained from the Abor- 
rigines the name of Coos, which in this 
language signified crooked, and known 
to the early hunters as the Upper Coos, 
to distinguish it from Haverhill and 
Newbury, which was also for a like rea- 
son called Coos by the natives, and by 
the hunters the Lower Coos. Cole- 
brook has recently received, on the 
authority of friend Carrigain, the ap- 
pelation of "Coos above the upper 

Lancaster derived its name from a 
town of Massachusetts ; it is delight- 
fully located, the hills receding some- 
what like an amphitheatre. Most of 
its lands are of excellent quality — its 
alluvials stretching nearly its whole 
length, and averaging about one mile 
in width. Israel's river rushes tumult - 
uously westward, furnishing power for 
mills and machinery, to a great extent, 
near the centre of the town, where its 
waters become comparatively tranquil 
and gently meander for a long distance, 
through a most fertile soil, until they 
mingle with the more turbid Con- 

Lancaster was incorporated on the 
5th of July, 1763, and owes its early 
settlement, like many other events in 
the world, to passion. David Page 
Esq., grand uncle of our present Gov- 
ernor, disatissfied with the division of 
the rights in Haverhill, and having been 
advised of the extent and fertility of 
our "meadows" by some of the sur- 
vivors of that party of Rogers' Rangers, 
who, after the destruction of the village 



of St. Francois, reached and passed 
down the waters of the Connecticut, 
being a man of 2xea,t EssolntioB, resolve 

ed to penetrate at once to the Upper 
Coos. With this view in the autumn 
of 1763, he sent his son David Page 
Jun., and Emmons Stockwell, to build 
a camp, and winter in Lancaster. They 
unfortunately erected their habitation on 
the meadow, from which they were 
driven the next March by the overflow- 
ing of the Connecticut river. In the 
year 1764, David Page, Esq. (called 
by the settlers Gov. Page) with his 
large family "moved" to Lancaster, 
followed by several young men. eager 
to improve, or rather make their fortune. 
The best tracts of land were immedi- 
ately occupied, and were so productive 
that, for many years, manure was con- 
sidered unnecessary, and was actually 
thrown over banks and into hollows, 
where it would be most out of the way. 
At this period there was no settlement 
between Haverhill and Lancaster, and 
but very few north of No. 4, (now 
Charlestown). There being no roads, 
the settlers suffered inconceivable hard- 
ships in transporting their necessaries, 
few as .they were, being obliged to 
navigate their log canoes up and down 
, the "fifteen mile falls," now known to 
be twenty miles in length, with a descent 
of more than three hundred feet ; and 
in winter to pass the same dangerous 
rapids in sleighs and with ox-teams, 
frequently falling through the ice, and 
sometimes never rising above it. High 
water to decend, and low water to as- 
cend, were thought the most favorable 
times, the canoes being drawn up by 
ropes ; but when decending. one man 
stood in the bow with a pole to guard 
from rock to rock, while another sat in 
in the stern to steer with his paddle. 
In this manner the wife of Governor 
Page, when corpulent and infirm, was 
carried in safety to her friends "below." 
Her boatmen were her son David, and 
Emmons Stockwell who had married 
one of her daughters, men of great 
muscular power and of Roman resolu- 
tion, equally persevering and collected, 
whether carrying packs of ninety pounds, 
or swimming in the foaming surge. 

They afterwards commanded companies 
of militia, acquired large estates, and 
left manv descendants, who. we hope. 
will emulate their example and trans- 
cend their usefulness. Edwards Buck- 
nam. a young follower of Gov. Page. 
soon married one of his daughters, and 
settled at the mouth of Beaver brook ; 
his daughter Eunice was the nrst white 
child born in Lancaster in 1767. He 
was a man of unbounded hospitality 
and usefulness, was a dead shot with 
his "smooth bore." could draw teeth, 
"let blood," perform the duties of 
priest in marrying, was one of the most 
skilful and accurate surveyors in the 
State, was proprietors' and town clerk, 
(his house and records were destroyed 
by fire in the year 1792 :) afterward 
was General of the Militia : became 
regardless of property, and died poor. 

The first town-meeting was held on 
the nth of March 1769. 

The first mill was operated by horse 
power, but so illy constructed, that it 
was little better than the large mortar 
and pestle attached to a pole, which was 
Used by many. A "water null" was 
erected, and soon after burnt : another, 
and another me: the same fate. These 
disasters, with the revolutionary war, 
reduced the settlers to extreme distress. 
Newcomb Blodgett (who is now living) 
and some others being captured by the 
Indians and carried to Canada, led to the 
determination of abandoning the coun- 
try ; and for this purpose tre settlers 
collected at the house of Emmons 
Stockwell, whose resolution never for- 
sook him, even for a moment. "My 
family," said he. "and I shan't go." 
This remark changed the opinion of 
several families who remained, yet with 
but very few accessions to the end of 
the great and glorious struggle. 

On the 7th of January. 1776. Joseph 
Whipple was chosen to represent the 
towns of Lancaster, Northumberland, 
Dartmouth (now Jefferson; Apthorp, 
(merged in other towns) and Stratford. 
Voted to give their representatives "in- 
structions from time to time." At a 
subsequent meeting, Joseph Whipple 
was again elected to the same office ; 
— a vote of thanks passed for his past 



services, and a committee of five was 
chosen to give him instructions for the 
r uture. Thus was the right of instruc- 
tion established to govern me first rep- 
resentative ; may God grant that that 
right may never be subverted. Near 
and soon after the close of the war, 
several families, who had lost much of 
their property during the conflict, mi- 
grated to Lancaster. Maj. Jonas Wil- 
der, with a large and highly respectable 
family, was of the number. He built 
a "grist and saw mill." In May, 17S7, 
Capt. John Weeks, for a like reason, 
came to this town, bringing his eldest 
daughter and son, (the writer of this 
article, then six years of age) with him : 
they rode on two horses, with bed and 
other furniture appended. The best of 
mothers and the other children followed 
the next October ; and the pleasure of 
meeting, in a neat log house, surround- 
ed within a few rods by the dense and 
sturdy forest, will be among the last of 
^our recollections. The town had now 
acquired the very respectable number 
of twenty-four families, exclusive of 
several young men. Our forests 
abounded with moose ; our rivers with 
trout, salmon, and various other kinds 
of fish — articles essential to even the 
existence of the settlers. 

Nothing can exceed the symmetry 
and beauty of the limbs and horns of 
the moose ; the round part, or that 
near the head, is about fourteen inches 
in length, where it becomes palmated, 
and is, in some instances twelve inches 
broad, surmounted in one instance (seen 
by Edward Spaulding now living) by 
seventeen spikes on each horn. One, 
now before me, is one inch and a half 
in diameter at the base, and eight in- 
ches in length, terminating in a point. 

The largest class of horns spread five 
feet, and weigh about one hundred 
pounds. Vet this enormous proportion 
of horn is of unusual growth, being 
moulted every February. Even at 
this early period, cars were used for 
the transportation of baggage ; not 
constructed however, precisely like 
those now employed on our railroads, 
as they were composed of two poles, 
one end of each resting on the ground, 

the other ends passing through the 
stirrups of a saddle, with two transverse 
sticks behind the horse, on which rested 
tiic icau. ana 10 one oi vvftreh the whip* 
pie-tree was attached. Cap:. John 
Weeks, as delegate from the upper 
Coos, on the 21st of June, 17SS. at- 
tended the Convention for ratifying the 
Federal constitution, and was one of 
fifty-seven, who voted in the anhnnative 
against forty-six negative voters. He 
was in favor of giving even more power 
to the Federal compact, and being an 
honest man (though deceived in this 
instance) he through life acted with the 
Federal party. He lived to his seven- 
tieth year, and probably never saw a 
moment when he would not divide the 
last dollar of his property with him who 
was in greatest need. Of course he ear- 
ly became poor, and cheerfully main- 
tained that condition through Lee. 

New Hampshire was the ninth state 
adopting ; consequently, even." consid- 
eration within the reach of man was 
put in requisition during the Libera- 
tion of the Convention. And now, in 
the year 1839, we have more fear of 
consolidation than all other erils that 
can assail our unparalleled haepiness 
and prosperity. At the March meeting 
in 17S9, twenty votes were cast for 
State officers ; and even this small num- 
ber were divided by important political 
considerations ; twelve friends to popu- 
lar rights however prevailed. And we 
have reason to beheve, that, a: the re- 
mote period, when the other sections 
of our country shall have sunk below 
the standard of civil and relLi: -as right, 
the bracing atmosphere of the White 
Mountains will keep our inhabitants 
true to themselves, their country, and 
their God. In 1791, the town voted 
"to build a Meeting House.*' and chose 
a committee of five to fix the she and 
superintend the building. I: was iarge, 
and many years elapsed before it was 
finished. A congregational church of 
twenty-four persons was gathered on 
the 17th of July. 1794; and on the 
1 8th of the following September, the 
Rev. Joseph Wil'ard was installed. He 
being the first settled minister, was en- 
titled to the right of land (over 300 



acres) voted by the original proprietors. 
The town agreed to give him fifty 
pounds per annum, and that his salary 
should rise, in uie ratio pi the inventory, 
to eighty pounds annually. He con- 
tinued with the people of his charge, 
until the 1 6th of October, 1S22. Some 
few persons, being inclined to what 
would now be called Burchardism, de- 
sired more fire in their worship ; on 
learning that fact, the venerable Parson 
requested a dismission, which was 
granted on the above mentioned day. 
He afterwards preached in other towns, 
and was hired by his old congregation 
two years. He died July 2 2d, 1S26, 
aged sixty-six. Mr. Willard served in 
the revolutionary' army, and retained 
through life an elegant military figure 
and step. His sermons were written 
in a plain, easy, chaste style, sound in 
doctrine, yet liberal, as was his whole 
life and conversation. The church 
and congregation soon became much 
divided, which unhappily continues to 
be their state ; and probably nothing 
short of a power like ''a rushing mighty 
wind" will heal their dissentions and 
concentrate their efforts and affections. 
Richard C. Everett, the first lawyer, 
settled in town in the year 1793. He 
enlisted into the army at the age of 
fourteen, served through the war, ob- 
tained by his own efforts a collegiate 
education, studied law, became a dis- 
trict judge ; posessed a strong mind, 
was a man of honor, and much respect- 
ed, and died on the 2 2d of March, in 
•the year 18 15, aged fifty-one years. 
A slow yet regular and healthy pro- 
gress has been made in the settlement 
and improvement of the town, from 
1787 to the present time ; nothing ex- 
traordinary occuring except the enven- 
omed violence of party strife, during 
the embargo, non-intercourse and war. 
The parties being nearly equal in num- 
bers, and so near the northern frontiers, 
that smuggling became the business of 
many of one party, and a few deluded 
unfortunates of the other, and was car- 
ried on to such a degree, that patriot- 
ism was put to the most severe test. 

In the year 1813, the most malig- 
nant form of scarletina swept from the 

town most of our aged people, the in- 
firm in younger life, and some whose 
hardy constitutions almost bid defiance 
10 disease and death. Pulmonary dis- 
eases here, as in other parts of New- 
England, have ever been active and re- 
lentless, alike destroying beauty, laying 
the mighty low, and sending piety on 
high. Fevers are comparatively rare. 
Dyspepsia, with its languid and down- 
cast look, is beginning to make its ap- 
pearance among us ; but as farming 
and s^mnastic exercises are becoming 
again fashionable, it is hoped that dis- 
order will soon be as little known as it 
was among our fathers. The altitude 
of Lancaster, being about eight hundred 
feet above tide water, its proximity to 
the White Mountains, and high latitude, 
render some of its seasons too cold for 
maize ; the mean temperature of the 
atmosphere through the year 1838, as 
indicated by Montandon's thermometer, 
which nearly agrees with Fahrenheit 
was 36 1-2 degrees above zero, yet out, 
of fifty-two years past, that crop has 
wholly failed only three times. Wheat 
is very sure when sown late on ground 
well prepared, producing in very few 
instances forty bushels to the acre, and 
potatoes in one case over six hundred ; 
and of a quality superior to those grown 
in most portions of our country. Rye 
does well on newly cleared land, but is 
subject to blight on old ground. The 
Hackmetack (Indian name of spruce, 
among the former tribes on the sea 
board, and those in the interior) abounds 
'here. The Tamarack (Indian name 
for Larch) is frequent in low ground. 
The Moose Missie (Mountain Ash) in 
high hills and swampy low lands, is not 
unfrequent. Its Indian name was ac- 
quired by the fondness of the Moose 
for the bark and leaves of that tree. 
The most elegant and lofty white 
pines abounded on our highest alluvials. 
One shaft measured four feet in diame- 
ter at the base, was perfectly straight 
and without limbs ninety-eight feet, 
where it was twenty-two inches in diam- 
eter. The inhabitants are yet supplied 
with large quantities of sugar from the 
maple, which is abundant on the slopes 
of our hills. The beautiful elm with its 



sixty feet trunk, was found almost every 
where on our low meadows, before the 
axe had closed a wnr of extermination. 
The other forest trees common 10 New 
England are found here, except the 
Chestnut, Hickory. Pitch and Norway 
Pines, and White Oak. Granite of the 
most beautiful texture is found, not in 
large masses, but in detached blocks 
sprinkled over most of our high land ; 
and if the distinguished industry and 
economy of our fathers shall be con- 
tinued through the next generation, 
their houses, bridges and fences will be 
composed of that material. But few 
rocks of a secondary formation are 
found ; consequently our soil partakes 
largely of the primitive character ; 
covered by a deep rich loam, of de- 
composed vegetable matter. Lime is 
rare ; but, as the various grasses flour- 
ish luxuriantly, animal manure is abund- 
ant for wheat and other crops. 

About two miles southwest of the 
town's centre, there is a large tract of 
alluvial land, called Martin's Meadow, 
from an early hunter whose name was 
Martin. He caught immense numbers 
of beavers, from Beaver-brook, which 
meanders through the meadow, Bea- 
ver dams on and near this brook can 
yet be traced, in one instance, about 
fifty rods ; another is near five feet high, 
and others of less extent and height ; 
yet all exhibited extraordinary skill and 
ingenuity, superior to some bipeds, who 
attempt the erection of dams. The 
banks of this brook are perforated in 
hundreds of places, which show the 
former residence of bank bever ; a 
kind smaller than those wonderful ar- 
chitects, who build dams, and erect 
houses several feet in diameter, with a 
layer of poles through the middle, 
which divides them into two stories, 
in one of which their food for winter, 
consisting of small poles, cut about two 
feet in length, is deposited ; while the 
others covered with leaves, is their rest- 
ing place during the inclement season. 
The entrance to both kinds of habita- 
tion is always below low water mark, 
from which they ascend through a sub- 
terranean passage, often several rods long 
to their dark, yet comfortable abode. 

Immediately south of this meadow 
three conical hills, called Martin Mead- 
ow-Hills, gradually and beautifully rise 

several hunarcd 

Connecticut river in an easterly direc- 
tion two miles. On the sides of these 
hills reside ten aged farmers, who settled 
in the same neighborhood when young, 
and with little other property than then- 
axes, having worked by the month, to 
pay for their respective lots of one 
hundred acres each. Most of them 
have become rich, and all enjoy a green 
old age, being able to labor on the same 
soil they occupied about fifty years ago. 
Phinehas Hodgdon is more than eighty 
years of age ; Jonathan Twombly over 
seventy-eight ; Walter Philbrook near 
seventy-five ; William Moore in his 
seventy-sixth year ; John Mclntire in 
his seventy-fifth ; Edward Spaulding (a 
decendant of the famous Mrs. Dustin) 
in his seventy-fourth ; John Wilder in 
his seventy-eighth ; Isaac Darby in his 
seventy-third ; Menassah Wilder in his 
seventy-first ; and Coffin Moore sev- 
enty-one. The same blast of a horn, 
well tuned, would now call them all to 
dinner ; and although differing in poli- 
tics and religion, they are all attached 
to the benign institutions of their be- 
loved country. 

On the south side of Martin Meadow- 
Hills, and washing their base, is Martin 
Meadow- Pond, a fine sheet of water, 
covering about four hundred acres. 
Here the first settlers repaired, when- 
ever their stock of meat was exhausted, 
and their appetites satiated with fish, to 
watch and kill the noble animal, known 
by no other than- its Indian name of 
Moose, which, during the hot season, 
!*pend its evenings in the pond to rid 
itself of myriads of flies, and to feed 
on its favorite food, the roots of lilies. 
An early settler, by the name of Dinnis 
Stanley, a man of strong mind and per- 
fect veracity, informed the writer of 
this article, that being "'out of meat" 
and wanting a moose skin, to buy a cer- 
tain luxury, then much used, and too 
often at the present day, went alone to 
Cherry Pond for a supply, carrying his old 
gun, so much used that by turning pow- 
der into the barrel it would prime itself. 



He had scarcely struck fire in his camp, 
when he heard several moose wading 
from the shallow side of the pond to- 
ward deep water. lie then uncorked 
his powder horn, put several bullets into 
his mouth, and waited until the moose 
in front was nearly immersed in water. 
He waded in where the water was about 
one fodt in depth, and took his position, 
not in rear of the moose, lest they 
should swim over the pond, but at a 
right angle with their track, and an easy 
musket shot from it. On his appear- 
ance, the four moose, as he had anticip- 
ated, chose rather to wade back than 
swim over, and commenced their retreat 
in the same order they had entered the 
pond ; that was, one behind the other 
at some distance. In a moment the 
moose which had been in the rear, was 
now in front in the retreat ; and, com- 
ing within reach, he was shot at. The 
powder horn was then applied to the 
muzzle of the gun, a bullet followed 
from his mouth, with the celerity which 
hunters only know. The second moose 
was fired at, the third, and fourth in 
rapid succession, when Lt. Stanley found 
time to give a fifth discharge to the 
moose then in the rear. Three fell at 
the water's edge, the other staggered to 
the top of the bank where he fell dead. 
But the greatest destruction of the 
moose occured in March, when the 
snow was deep and stiffened after a 
thaw. They were then destroyed with- 
out mercy by professional hunters who 
used only the skin, tallow, and nose ; 
which last, and a beaver's tail, is proba- 
bly more acceptable to the epicure than 
all the refinements of Roman luxury. 
One hunter, by name Nathan Caswell, 
killed in one season ninety-nine moose* 
most of them wantonly, not saving even 
the tallow or all of the skins. This 
brought him into disrepute among the 
settlers, who sometimes refused him 
their houses. The settlers however 
were more provident, always observing 
the injunction to Peter, with a slight 
modification, "Arise, slay," only "to 
eat." A moose of the largest class is 
about eight feet high and will weigh 
over nine hundred pounds. Deer and 
wolves were unknown till long after the 

first settlement, as were also eels, till 
the otter were exterminated. 

From the village in I^ancaster the 
loads diverge in :our direcuu.s toward 
the sea board : in one towar d Canada, 
and in another westward. This central 
location gives the town ntrst of the 
business, mercantile and professional, in 
the counties of Essex and Coos, per- 
formed by five store keepers, seven law- 
yers, four physicians, one bank srkh a cap- 
ital of fifty thousand dollars, an 3 one Fire 
Insurance Company, to which may be 
added a flour mill with three sets of 
stones, four saw mills, three clapboard 
and three shingle machines, one exten- 
sive clothier's mill, a tannery. machinery 
for carriage making, blacksmiih work, 
coopering and many other mechanical, 
operations. Our religious establish- 
ments are very respectable, consisting 
of a Congregational Church. Methodist, 
Episcopal Society, three meeting houses, 
many Baptists. Unitarians, Freewill Bap- 
tists, some quakers, christians, rcstora- 
tionists, and no mormons. We have 
also an Academy in success:".:": opera- 
tion, and a very convenient brick Court 
House, and Jail often without tenants. 
There is also a Printing Press in town, 
from which issues a weekly newspapar 
entitled the Coos County Democrat. 
Its politics is indicated by its title. 
The town contains three hundred voters, 
and probably about fifteen hundred in- 

One of the most magnificeut specta- 
cles I have ever witnessed, common in 
early times, now rare, was nacts of 
twenty, thirty, and sometimes th'ty acres 
of heavily timbered land, a large pro- 
portion of which was evergreen, mixed 
with deciduous trees, cut dovrr: one or 
two years, and in a dry season, with 
fire attached to the windward side of 
the lot, the flame ascending wiih fearful 
velocity, far above the tallest of the 
trees (for it was a rale in those days, it* 
the trees were felled by the job. to leave 
four of the largest on each acre stand- 
ing) and the vast columns 01" and 
rapid smoke, obscuring the snn"s bril* 
liant light, nearly and perhaps quite 
equalling Napoleon's description of the 
burning of Moscow. 



Our inhabitants begin to be aware, 
that one hundred years since, a smatter- 
ing of Greek'and Latin was a passport 
to honor and wealth, the learned pro- 
fession then being scantily filled, which 
has led many parents and more young 
persons, at a time, when our professor- 
ships were over-flowing, to identify a 
collegiate education with ease, honor 
and wealth, and agricultural pursuits, 
with a life of meanness, of toil, and 
of no profit. Hence the rush of young 
men to colleges, academies, the yard 
stick, speculations, and even idleness, 
to avoid the low groveling pursuit of 
farming, as if agriculture did not require 
learning, and will not produce wealth 
and happiness preeminently over every 
other profession. The recent import- 
ation of bread stuff from Europe has, 
with its disgrace and pecuniary loss, 
produced one good effect. It has ex- 
cited the attention of legislatures and 
scientific men to the "Art of all Arts :" 
It has convinced many that with a mod- 
erate share of industry, and the present 
enormous prices of the products of 
our northern region, they can become 

independent and happy, far, very far, 
beyond the care-worn speculator, the 
blasted hopes of those who depend on 
liieir Uipionias, or c>cii iiiiii wao is a 
slave to his millions. 

The character of our inhabitants is, 
in some respects, dissimilar to that of 
many other country towns, uniting the 
warm sensibilities of the heart, with the 
more profound researches of the under- 
standing; enterprising, perhaps in the 
extreme ; depending, however, more 
on individual effort, than on combined 
exertion ; hospitable yet economical ; 
aspiring, yet restrained within the 
bounds of propriety ; independent in 
principle, even to a fault, if fault it can 
be ; patriotic, only in accordance with 
their own perceptions of right ; equally 
regardless of all dictums, unless clearly 
announced to their comprehension ; 
patient and persevering, when cheered 
on by hope, yet possibly restless, when 
that " anchor to the soul " is " deferred." 
Lancaster, "with all thy faults, I love 
thee still." 

August 4th, 1839. 




Few customs in this town have 
changed more since the original settle- 
ment than those relating to the dispos- 
al of the dead. As soon as civilized 
society was established here, a spot 
was selected for a burial place. The 
first graveyard was on the top of Put- 
ney's Hill, being the lot now celebrated 
both on account of its antiquity and 
the elevated prospect afforded in the 
vicinity. This lot appears to have 

been at first selected by common con- 
sent, but, on the incorporation of the 
town, the subject of its legal ownership 
came up for public consideration. In 
1 766, the year after the incorporation, 
the subject of the ownership of the 
burial lot was set at rest by the follow- 
ing declaration inscribed in the record 
of the legal proceedings of the annual 
town meeting of that year: "The half 
acre of Land, which is voted to be pro- 
cured for a Burying Plac on the top 


of the Hill, I give and Be Stow on the 
Town. John Putney."* 

In the earliest davs of this township. 
if a person died, the bod) was enclosed 
in a winding sheet, which enwrapped 
the form in such a manner as to favor 
the lapping of certain edges over the 
face of the deceased after the obsequies 
were performed and before the coffin 
was closed. The coffin was made by 
the local carpenter, who does not ap- 
pear to have ever kept one on hand in 
case of an emergency, and was fitted 
with a pane of glass over the place al- 
loted to the head of the corpse, through 
which glass the features were to be 
viewed by the mourners and friends. 
The funeral exercises being finished, 
the detached lid of the coffin was 
screwed over the pane, and the re- 
mains were ready for burial. 

The preparations for burial being fin- 
ished, the coffin was placed upon a 
bier, or barrow, and covered with a 
pall. The pall was a large piece of 
black cloth, about the size of a bed- 
sheet, and served as a symbol of gener- 
al solemnity and mourning. The pall 
was the property of the town. A pall 
was purchased in this town in 1 768. 
The bier was at first borne on the 
shoulders of a number of men selected 
for the purpose ; in later times, it was 
carried by the hands, as it is now, for 
short distances, on the way to the 
grave. The coffin was buried without 
any box, or other investing receptacle. 

At first, there were sometimes at- 
tempts at preserving the memories of 
the dead by rude headstones of un- 
hewn rock, in which were cut the ini- 
tials of the deceased. A number of 
these headstones can be seen in the 
old cemetery on Putney's Hill. Only 
one of these bears a date. It is in 
memory of a child. The whole in- 
scription is "1758, J. C," the initials 
being cut below the date. As soon ■ as 
the prosperity of the local settlement 

♦The public act of the town in advance 
of this gratuity is as follows: 

"Voted that Haifa Nacre of Land Be 
Procurd for a During Place where they 
have Be gun to Bury on the top of the 

would allow, wrought gravestones be- 
gan to be used. These were at first 
"with shapeless sculpture decked," be- 
ing exceedingly rude. In the old 
graveyard on Putney's Hill are the two 
oldest artificial headstones in town. 
One is a memento of Lieut. Aaron 
Kimball, who died July 30, 1 760. aged 
50; the other, of Jeremiah Kimball, 
who died May iS, 1764, aged 56. 
These headstones are supplemented by 
corresponding footstones. 

The gravestones of the older time 
sometimes exhibited a prolixity of in- 
scription that was quite noticeable. 
The most remarkabk case in kind is 
seen in the lower village cemetery.* 
On a large, slate headstone, finely 
sculptured on its face, is the following 
elaborate inscription : 

In testimony of sincere 


This humble monument was erected by 

E. Darling, 
to inform the passing stranger that be- 
neath rests the head of his beloved 

Eliza W. Parker, 
youngest daughter of Lt. E. P., who 
died of consumption, May n, 1820, 

JEt. 18. 
Invidious Death ! How dost thou rend 

The bonds of nature and the ties of 
In Coelo op fa ?n us convent re. 
We know that her Redeemer liveth. 

*In 1766. the following act, doubtless 
relating to the original cemetery at the 
village, was passed by the town : 

••Voted that half a nacor of Land Be 
Procurd for a Buring yard on the High 
way Leding to Concord Be tween the 
Land of Mr. Mark Jewet and Mr. John 
Blaisdel, a quartor out of Each of these 
Lands.'' Subsequently to a blank space 
immediately following this vote, this 
gratuity is expressed: 

••a quarter of a nacor of Land for a 
Buring Plas which was Voted to Be 
Procurd on my Land I give and Be Stow- 
on the Town. Johu Blaisdel." 

The blank space in the record was 
doubtless intended for the accommoda- 
tion of Mr. Jewett, who for some reason 
never used it. 



On the left of this inscription, ac- 
cording to the reader's observation, is 
the perpendicularly chiseled sentiment. 
" Her Eulogy is written on the hearts 
of her friends ;" on the right, another, 
" Her friends were — ALL, who knew 

The first artificial headstones in the 
town were of slatestone, rudely sculp- 
tured, with a death's head and wings. 
Afterwards came the improved slab of 
slate, on which the monument and 
weeping willow — one or both — were 
representative graven symbols of afflic- 
tion. The marble slab followed, to be 
in its turn largely superseded by the 
more imposing stone or stately monu- 
ment, the latter being usually of mar- 
ble, though sometimes of granite. 

The first tomb constructed in this 
town was built by Roger E. Perkins, 
and is located in the lower village grave- 
yard. It received the bodies of nu- 
merous members and descendants of 
the Perkins family, but will receive no 
more. A few years ago it was closed 
and sealed for all time. In front of 
this tomb, on a slab of soft stone, is 
this inscription : 

Roger E. Perkins' 


Erected July n, 182 1. 

It is an interesting fact that this in- 
scription was cut by the late Rev. Ed- 
ward Ballard, son of the late John Os- 
good Ballard, the renowned select 
school teacher, and that the sculptor 
used only his pocket knife in the opera- 

The mention of the lower village 
cemetery suggests an interesting fact of 
local history. This yard, as originally 
laid out, extended two or three rods in- 
to the present main street. When the 
growth of the village demanded an in- 
creased width of street, the graveyard 
fence was set back the necessary dis- 
tance at this point, and many bodies 
were disinterred and reburied in other 
places ; but many others were left in 
their original positions, the mounds be- 
ing smoothed off, and the thoughtless 
travelers to day tread above them while 
passing and repassing. The above 

change of outline occurred not far 
from the year 1S20. 


There is less that need be said of 
matrimonial customs than of some 
others. There are some legal features 
of this part of the present subject that 
are worth noticing. The colonial 
statute of marriage required that an in- 
tention of matrimony should be attend- 
ed by a certificate from the clerk of the 
town, or a license from the governor of 
the province, and be published on 
three several meeting clays. Subse- 
quently to Independence, in 1791, a 
law was enacted in New Hampshire, 
making it compulsory upon parties de- 
siring to consummate marriage to have 
their "desire or intention published at 
three several public meeting days, or 
three Sabbath days," in town, or, if 
there was no clerk to publish, in the 
next adjoining town. The first publi- 
cations of matrimonial intents were by 
open "crying" of the same by the 
town clerk at some interval in the re- 
ligious services of Sunday. Afterwards 
notice was given by posting the legal 
evidence of the intent of parties in the 
entry, or porch, of the meeting-house. 

The posting of marriages was kept 
up till a late period. In the rooms of 
the New Hampshire Antiquarian Soci- 
ety, at Contoocook, can be seen the 
last marriage notice posted in this 
town. It reads as follows : 

Mr. Erastus Danforth, and Miss 
Mary S. Nichols, both of Plopkinton, 
intend marriage. 


Town Clerk. 
Were married Aug. 23, 1854. 

In later times, as is well known, the 
certificate of a town-clerk is a sufficient 
guaranty of the privilege of legal mar- 


Charity is an attribute of human na- 
ture in all times and places. Its for- 
mulated services are modified to suit 
the times and circumstances. In the 
earlier days of this town, the poor were 
assisted by the public, as now. Such 



of the poor as were homeless were at 
first boarded at the expense of the 
town. The board of paupers was sold 
at the annual town-meeting to the low- 
est bidder. This was a custom that 
was liable to abuses, like any other 
practice. At best, complaints would 
naturally arise from such a form of 
management. It is said that on one 
occasion, when it was proposed in 
town-meeting to sell the board of a 
certain pauper, the unfortunate man 
asked the privilege to speak. He said 
he did not wish to be sent to the place 
at which he had recently lived, for he 
" did not want to go to a place where 
they were poorer than he was." The 
practice of boarding the homeless poor 
around from place to place was, at 
best, objectionable, being excusable 
only on the ground of the poverty of 
the incipient township. The conduct 
of pauper affairs changed in 1833, 
when, on the 13th of March"' it was 
voted in town-meeting to buy a pauper 
farm, Stephen Sibley, John Silver, and 
Daniel Chase being chosen a commit- 
.tee to effect the public purpose. The 
farm selected was one owned by Dan- 
iel Chase, and located on Dimond 
Hill, about two miles below the village, 
on the main road to Concord. This 
farm continued to be the home of the 
town's poor till the year 1S72, when 
the property was sold in fulfillment of 
the vote of the town. The farm and 
its appendencies were sold in lots. 
MOses F. Hoyt purchased the main lo- 
cation and occupies it to this day. 
Since the sale of the town farm, the 
town's poor have been boarded, but by 
a management exempt from the objec- 
tional features of the first practice. The 
poor are no longer sold like worthless 
trumpery to the lowest bidder. 


As a public corporation, this town 
has enjoyed nearly or quite all the im- 
munities and privileges implied in the 
right to buy and sell, borrow and lend, 
sue and be sued. It has collected its 
claims and paid its debts. We are not 
aware that any official of this town has 
ever been prosecuted for mal-adminis- 

tration or embezzlement. * There has 
been a laxity of financial conduct that 
is apt to obtain in country towns. 
Men of no professional financial train- 
ing are apt to transact business with 
regard only to present contingencies. 
As a consequence, the financial records 
of such managers are seldom what they 
should be. A citizen of this town, who 
has often been personally concerned 
in public affairs, tells us he once knew 
a time when there was not a scrap of 
an account to certify the amount of the 
indebtedness of the town in the pos- 
session of one of its officers. Its notes 
were out here and there, but nobody- 
knew the amount in the aggregate. If 
the town chose to give its note, it was 
done ; if it wished to cancel any in- 
debtedness, it was accomplished. 

In consequence of the indifferent 
local management, and the attendant 
popular inadvertence, the disposal of 
the town's revenues derived from the 
sale of public lands is a problem to 
many of our citizens to this day. We 
have been to some pains to uncover 
the facts, but as yet with incomplete 
success. From the sale of the parson- 
age lands, a fund of about $1000 was 
derived ; from the sale of the school 
right, about as much more ; from the 
sale of the training field, a considerable 
sum, be it more or less. The interest 
of these funds was devoted to special, 
distinctive uses. The parsonage fund 
was devoted to religion, the school 
fund to education, the training field 
fund to military affairs. We will give 
detailed information briefly. 

With the above funds, bound in ful- 
fillment of the original purposes to be 
invested, the officers of the town often 
experienced difficulties. Investments 
were not always easy. Reliable men 
were not always ready to take them. 
At length the parsonage fund was dis- 
posed of by a vote to appropriate the 
principle of the same to the discharge 
of any public indebtedness, and to raise 
the equivalent of the interest, annually, 
for' distribution pro rata among the 
several religious societies. The plan 
worked only for a short time. It was 
soon objected that the nature of our 


2 55 

civil compact forbade public assess- 
ments for the benefit of religious soci- 
eties. The point was considered and 
sustained, and the collecting and dis- 
bursing of parsonage incomes ceased 
in 1853. The school fund was anni- 
hilated by the annual appropriation of 
the interest, with a certain part of the 
principle, for the support of common 
schools. The interest of the training 
field fund was annually devoted to mil- 
itary expenses till 1S5 1, when the New 
Hampshire militia system was abol- 
ished, and we presume it was then ab- 
sorbed into the general treasury. 

The "surplus money" was for a 
time a thorn in the side of the finan- 
cial body corporate. This product of 
the surcharged governmental treasury 
at Washington was received by Stephen 
Sibley, formally authorized receiving 
agent of the town.* Mr. Sibley ren- 
dered a report of his official services 
as receiver in 1S38, and his report was 
accepted. On the 2 7th of April, 1S39, 
the subject of the disposal of the sur- 
plus money came up for consideration. 
In the warrant for a town- meeting held 
on that date, an article was inserted to 
see if the town would divide the yearly 
interest accruing from this revenue 
equally among the ratable polls, and if, 
when so divided, the amount should 
be considered as a discharge of an 
equal sum of the annual poll tax. The 
town voted to pass over the article. At 
the annual town-meeting in March, in 
1843, a vote was passed to divide an- 
nually one year's interest of the surplus 
fund, at the rate of six per cent., 
equally among all resident persons lia- 
ble to taxation, until further ordered by 
the town. The matter rested till the 
29th of November, 1845, when it was 
voted to reconsider the foregoing vote 
from and afterthe 1st of the following 
April. In March of the next year, an 

♦In 18.'J7, the town paid Mr. Sibley 
$2.17 for services as receiver, and for like 
services 1838, 84.31. The amount of sur- 
plus money received in two installments 
■was not far from $G000, but it is a singu- 
lar fact that neither in the records of this 
town, nor in those of the State Treasurer's 
ollice, at Concord, appear any figures to 
certify the sum. 

attempt was made to reconsider the 
vote of the 29th of November, but the 
article was indefinitely postnoned. The 
contest over the surplus money arose 
from the protest against the anti-Amer- 
ican idea of taxing the people to sup- 
port individuals. The fund was ab- 
sorbed into the town treasury. 


We now touch briefly the subject of 
messages, the facilities for the convey- 
ance of which having increased greatly 
since the earlier days of the town. At 
first, the ability to transmit messages 
depended upon the gratuitous accom- 
modations of public travel. A person 
wishing to send a letter to a relative or 
friend, prepared it and forwarded by 
any person who happened to be jour- 
neying that way. By this popular 
method of transmitting messages, the 
taverns became general distributing 
post-offices. Sometimes a strip of tape 
tacked above the fireplace of the pub- 
lic house became a support for letters. 
The transient traveler looked over the 
list, and, selecting any bound in the 
direction he was going, took them 
along. By this method, the time re- 
quired for conveyance from one point 
to another was governed much by un- 
certainties. Months were sometimes 
required for messages to reach their 
destination, at distances now accom- 
plished regularly in less time than a 
day. The introduction of a public 
mail service removed a great inconven- 
ience. The earlier mails were carried 
through this region by horsemen, and 
afterwards by drivers of vehicles. Sub- 
sequently, the public stage became the 
means of conveyance ; the railroad 
crowned the accommodations in this 
direction till the telegraph* afforded 
the transportation of the most moment- 
ous matters. 

The first post-office in Hopkinton 
was established April 1, 181 1. John 
Harris was the first postmaster. The 
post-orfice at Contoocook was estab- 
lished March 5, 1.83 1. Thomas Burn- 

*A telegraph office was opened in Con- 
toocook iii 1866. Levi W. Dimond was 
the first operator. 

25 6 


ham was the postmaster. The post- 
office at West Hopkinton was estab- 
lished May 20. 1857. Joseph I\ I\-,v 
was postmaster. 


In the earlier half of the present 
century, there were enterprises in- 
stituted in Hopkinton that, though in 
part maintained till now, would have 
advanced to schemes of greater public 
importance, if the public position once 
occupied by this town had never been 
changed. One of these enterprises 
was the Hopkinton Village Aqueduct 
Association. Water is a domestic ne- 
cessity, and wells for water are con- 
temporaneous with history. The first 
wells in Hopkinton village were in 
many instances impracticable for two 
reasons. The earth in this vicinity is 
sandy and porous to a great depth, and 
drawing water long distances is not a 
desirable employment.* Again, the 
quality of the soil is so slightly con- 
creted that wells are in constant danger 
of falling in. A number of wells have 
disappeared in consequence of the 
lightness of the soil in this village. 
People have been disturbed by a rum- 
ble and tremor of the earth, and have 
investigated the phenomenon to find 
that their well had disappeared. Once 
an attempt was made to purify the old 
Wiggin well, better known as the 
"town well," since it occupied a posi- 
tion in the public street. Preparations 
were made for descent into it, and a 
man started down to begin the work of 
purification. He accomplished only a 
part of the descent, returning to state 
with much concern that there was a 
large chasm in the side, caused by the 
caving of the earth. The project of 
improvement was abandoned. This 
well has been closed a number of 

A general need prompted the forrf a- 
tion of the Aqueduct Association, 

♦An old wel 
aee Edmunds 
feet in depth. 

I on the premises of Hor- 
is reputed to be seventy 

which was incorporated in 1840. The 
grantees were Horace Chase, Nathan- 
iel Ci>r?i», Josefri-i ?*amvood. Isaae 
Long, Moses Kimball, Ariel P. Knowl- 
ton, William Little and Reuben E. 
French. Water was drawn by means 
of logs from springs on the eastern 
slope of Putney's Hill, about half a 
mile from the centre of the village, the 
site of the supply being on the land of 
Abram Burnham. The water of these 
springs is very pure and sweet. 

An important protective enterprise 
was implied in the formation of the 
Hopkinton Engine Company, which 
was incorporated in the year 1S14. 
The grantees were Benjamin Wiggin, 
Joseph Town, Thomas Williams, Eben- 
ezer Lerned, John O. Ballard, Stephen 
Sibley, Thomas W. Bailey and their 
associates. This company was in ac- 
tive existence till about 1852. During 
the warmer season of the year, it was 
its custom to meet monthly for a trial 
exercise. The company was mar- 
shaled by the strokes of the meeting- 
house bell, the engine taken to some 
reservoir, the tank filled by buckets, 
and the propelling power of the ma- 
chine * tested. The transaction was 
done with all the exactness of military 

About the time of the last practical 
usefulness of the Hopkinton Engine 
Company, an attempt was made to ele- 
vate the village into a precinct. A 
legal controversy thwarted the plan, 
which has never since been revived. 
For many years two tanks with pumps, 
supplied from the aqueduct, have been 
in existence in anticipation of dangers 
by fire. A chemical fire-engine was 
purchased by subscription in 1872 for 
use in Hopkinton lower village. 

The Contoocook 
Company was incorporated in 183 
Isaac Bailey, 3d, John Whipple, Rollin 
White, Joseph B. Town, and associates, 
were grantees. This organization is 
still in effective existence. Contoocook 
was elevated to a precinct in 1865. 

Village Engine 




■ ' 




VOL. n. 

JTTa\ T E, 1879. 

ISO. 9. 


A large proportion of the men who ' 
have been elected to the chief magis- 
tracy of our state, have been to a greater 
or less extent engaged in political life 
during a considerable period of their 
existence. The men of essentially busi- 
ness tastes and occupation, who have . 
been called to the gubernatorial chair, 
have been exceptions to the general 
rule. Nor is our state different from 
others in this regard. Even-where, as 
a rule, the public offices which the peo- 
ple have at their disposal, are conferred 
upon men who have devoted their time 
and attention to politics and partisan 
management. Among the more con- 
spicuous exceptions to this rule in this 
state, is the case of the late ex-Gov. 
Stearns, who. although a man of decided 
political convictions, was in no sense of 
the word a politician, and was never in 
any degree concerned in party manage- 
ment. Mr. Stearns was a business man 
in the full sense of the term, and, 
thoroughly identified as he was with the 
railroad interest of the state from its 
inception till the day of his death, he 
was unquestionably, from first to last, 
the most conspicuous representative of 
that interest in New Hampshire. A 
brief sketch of his career cannot fail to 
prove interesting to the readers of this 

Onslow Stearns was born in Bill er- 
ica, Mass., August 30. 1S10. The :~arm 
upon which he was reared, and which 
still remains in the family, being now 
owned by an older brother, Franklin 
Stearns, was the property and homestead 
of his grandfather, Hon. Isaac Steams, 
a prominent and influential citizen of 
Middlesex County, and a soldier in the 
old French War, who was at one rime a 
member of the Executive Council of 
the state and held other honorable and 
responsible offices. His father. John 
Stearns, who was also a farmer an i suc- 
ceeded in possession of the homestead, 
was killed in the prime of life by a rail- 
road accident at Woburn. William 
Stearns, a brother of John and ancle ot 
Onslow, was a soldier in the Pvc volu- 
tion and fought at the battle Lexington. 
Onslow Stearns remained an home, 
laboring upon the farm and availing 
himself of such educational privileges 
as the public schools afforded, until 
seventeen years of age, when he went 
to Boston and engaged as a clerk in the 
house of Howe <\: Holbrook, afterward 
J. C. Howe & Co., where he remained 
about three years, and then left to join 
his brother, John O. Stearns, since 
famous as a railroad contractor and 
builder, who, then in Virginia, was en- 
gaged in the construction of the Chesa- 



peake and Ohio canal. Subsequently 
he became interested with his brother 
in contracts for the construction of vari- 
ous raii roans In Pennsylvania, New York 
and New Jersey, upon which he was 
engaged until the summer of 1837, 
when he returned to Massachusetts and 
engaged in contracts upon the Charles- 
town Branch and Wilmington & Haver- 
hill Railroads, now respectively portions 
of the Fitchburg and Boston & Maine 
roads. Soon after he engaged in the 
work of completing the Nashua & Low- 
ell Railroad, then in process of con- 
struction from Lowell to Nashua. This 
road was completed in the fall of 1S38, 
when Mr. Stearns was made its super- 
intendent, holding the position until 
July, 1S45, when he resigned to become 
agent of the Northern Railroad Com- 
pany of New Hampshire for the purpose 
of constructing its road from Concord 
to White River Junction. His first 
efforts in the interest of this road were 
directed toward obtaining the necessary 
legislation for securing a right of way 
for the road over the land where it was 
to pass, the law of 1840 having rendered 
it impossible. This legislation was se- 
cured in 1S44, by which the state was 
empowered to take the land of the own- 
ers, making them compensation for 
damages, and leasing the same to rail- 
road corporations, they repaying to the 
state the amount paid for damages. 

Under the personal supervision of 
Mr. Stearns, the road was located, and 
the work of construction vigorously car- 
ried forward and completed, the Bristol 
branch included. After its completion 
he became manager of the road, which 
position he held till May, 1852, when he 
was chosen President of the Northern 
Railroad Company, continuing in that 
office until the time of his death. He 
was also general superintendent of the 
Vermont Central Railroad from 1852 till 
1855, a director in the Ogdensburgh 
Railroad for some time, and for nearly 
twenty years up to 1875, a director in 
the Nashua & Lowell Railroad Corpo- 

ile president of the Northern 
ad Company, Mr. Stearns was 
resident of the Sullivan, the Con- 

toocook Valley, and the Concord & 
Claremont Railroad Companies, which 
were connected in interest with the 
Northern Railroad, and under his direc- 
tion the Concord & Claremont Railroad 
was extended from Bradford to Clare- 
mont, being completed in 1872. The 
success of Mr. Stearns in the manage- 
ment of these various railroad enter- 
prises caused his sen-ices to be sought 
by those interested in other railroads, 
and he was frequently solicited to take 
charge of railroad interests in Massachu- 
setts and other states. These offers 
he uniformly declined till July, 1866, 
when he was induced to take the presi- 
dency of the Old Colony & Newport 
Railway Company, in Massachusetts, 
which -position he held till November, 
1S77, when he resigned on account ot 
failing health. During this time the 
Old Colony <$:. Newport Railway Com- 
pany and the Cape Cod Railroad Com- 
pany were consolidated under the name 
of the Old Colony Railroad Company, 
and the South Shore and Duxbury & 
Cohasset Railroads, with others, were 
added to it. The Old Colony Steam- 
boat Company was also formed, and 
purchased the boats of the Narragansett 
Steamship Company, thus forming, with 
the Old Colony Railroad, the present 
Fall River Line between Boston and 
New York. In 1874, Mr. Stearns was 
elected president of the Concord Rail- 
road, and continued to manage the 
affairs of this corporation till his death. 
The eleven years during which Mr. 
Stearns was president of the Old Colony 
Railroad were years of the most in- 
tense and constant labor on his part. 
For two years of the time he was gov- 
ernor of New Hampshire. He was 
president of the Northern Railroad and 
the other roads connected with it dur- 
ing all that time, and for three years he 
was also president of the Concord Rail- 
road and of the Old Colony Steamboat 
Company, besides being a director and 
interested in the management of various 
other corporations. Mr. Stearns gave 
an active, personal supervision to all 
the corporate interests under his charge, 
embracing not only their general rela- 
tions with other corporations and inter- 



ests, but extending to the most minute 
details of their management. He was 
never idle. No man was ever more 
painstaking and faithful in the discharge 
of his duties. His papers and figures 
were carried with him, and studied as 
he journeyed between his home in 
Concord and the railroad offices in 
Boston ; and when in Boston his labors 
almost always extended far into the 
hours of night. He lived in labor, and 
thought no plan complete till, by exe- 
cution, it had passed beyond his power 
to labor upon it. His knowledge of 
the practical management of railroads 
was complete and perfect to the small- 
est details ; and this, together with his 
unwearied industry, sound business 
judgment and foresight, and his knowl- 
edge and control of men, contributed 
to a success such as few railroad manag- 
ers have attained. At his death he was 
the oldest railroad president in continu- 
ous service in New England, having 
been president of the Northern Rail- 
road for twenty-seven years. 

Although in no sense a politician, as 
has been stated, Mr. Stearns was a man 
of fixed political convictions, acting 
heartily with the Whig party from early 
life until the dissolution of the party, 
when he became a Republican. In 
1862 he accepted the nomination of 
his party as candidate for State Senator 
in the Concord District and was elect- 
ed, serving upon the committees upon 
railroads, elections and military affairs. 
He was re-elected the following year 
and was chosen President of the Senate, 
faithfully and acceptably discharging 
the duties of his responsible position. 
In legislation as in business life he was 
eminently a practical man. During his 
term of legislative service the war of the * 
rebellion was in progress, and his efforts 
as a legislator, as well as a citizen, were 
freely and fully exerted in behalf of the 
Union cause. He was one of the prime 
movers in the formation of the New 
Hampshire Soldiers' Aid Society, an or- 
ganization which contributed largely to 
the encouragement of enlistments and 
the assistance of the needy families of 
soldiers in the field. 

In 1864 Mr. Stearns was a delegate- 

at-large from New Hampshire in the 
Republican National Convention, and 
was one of the vice-presidents of that 
b uly. M:;*y prominent Republicans 
and personal friends had for some time 
urged his candidacy for the Republi- 
can nomination for governor of the 
state, and in 1867 he received a large 
vote in the convention which nominated 
Gen. Harriman for that office. Soon 
after the convention he was besought by 
a number of his friends and political 
associates, who were dissatisfied with 
the action of the convention, to allow 
the use of his name as an independent 
candidate, but declined to accede to 
their wishes. 

In the Republican State Convention 
of 1S67 no name but that of Mr. Stearns 
was presented for the gubernatorial 
nomination, which was conferred upon 
him by acclamation, a circumstance of 
rare occurrence in the case of a first 
nomination. He was elected by a de- 
cided majority — over Gen. John Bedel, 
the Democratic candidate, and was re- 
nominated the following year. He sent 
a letter to the convention, declining the 
re-nomination, on account of the state 
of his health and the pressure of busi- 
ness cares, but the convention refused 
to accept the declination, and a com- 
mittee was appointed to wait upon him 
and urge its withdrawal, which was 
finally successful in its efforts. His re- 
election followed, and for another year 
he devoted no small share of his atten- 
tion to the interests of the state, notwith- 
standing the varied demands of the ex- 
tensive corporate interests under his 
management. To the financial affairs 
of the state his care was especially di- 
rected, and during his administration 
the state debt was reduced nearly one- 
third, while the state tax was also re- 
duced in still greater proportion. He 
also took a lively interest in the man- 
agement of the State Prison, and was 
instrumental in effecting great changes 
therein, securing more thorough disci- 
pline and putting the institution upon a 
paying basis, whereas it had long been 
run at a pecuniary loss to the state. 

In the discharge of all his public 
duties, Mr. Stearns always sought to 



treat the matter in hand in a thoroughly 
practical and businesslike manner, ex- 
ercising the same judgment and dis- 
rnmiintion as in the management of 
his private and business affairs. Al- 
though firmly attached to his party, he 
was less a partisan in the exercise of his 
official functions than many of his pred- 
ecessors had been, and was the first 
Republican governor of New Hamp- 
shire to nominate a Democrat to a po- 
sition upon the Supreme Bench, which 
he did in 1S70, when Hon. Win. S. 
Ladd of Lancaster was made an asso- 
ciate Justice of the Supreme Judicial 
Court to fill the vacancy caused by the 
retirement of Judge Nesmith. This ac- 
tion, although denounced by many of 
his Republican friends, is now regarded 
by all as having been wise and judi- 
cious, inasmuch as the ultimate out- 
come has been a thoroughly non-parti- 
san judiciary in our state, and a univer- 
sal desire and determination to maintain 
the same. 

The cause of education found in Mr. 
Stearns a warm friend, and in the wel- 
fare of Dartmouth College, which insti- 
tution in 1857, conferred upon him the 
honorary degree of Master of Arts, he 
took special interest. His first public 
address after assuming the gubernato- 
rial office, was upon the occasion of the 
college centennial, wherein he took de- 
cided ground in favor of such liberal aid 
from the state as might be necessary to 
make the institution permanently effec- 
tive for the public good. 

In religious sympathies and convic- 
tions Mr. Stearns was a Unitarian, and 
was an active and influential member of 
the Unitarian Society of Concord, dur- 
ing his long residence in the city, con- 
tributing liberally for the support of 
public worship, upon which he was a 
constant attendant, and for all its aux- 
iliary purposes and objects. Thor- 
oughly public-spirited, he never failed 
to give material support to all measures 

which seemed to him calculated to ad- 
vance the interests of his adopted city 
as well as the state at large, nor were 
his social vluties in the least ne§ie€ted< 
notwithstanding the pressing cares of 
public and business life. 

The long and arduous labor of his 
life was not without its substantial re- 
ward, and he became the possessor of 
an ample fortune, enabling him to dis- 
pense a liberal hospitality. Among the 
many distinguished persons entertained 
in his elegant mansion, were two incum- 
bents of the chief magistracy of the 
United States — General Grant and Mr. 
Hayes, each of whom became his guest 
when visiting our State Capital. The 
estate which he left at his decease, 
amounted to upwards of three hundred 
thousand dollars in value, and exceeds 
any ever left by any other individual in 
the county of Merrimack, as the result 
of his own labors. 

Mr. Stearns was united in marriage- 
June 26, 1845, w fth ^ ss Mary A. Hol- 
brook, daughter of Hon. Adin Hol- 
brook of Lowell, Mass., and with, her, 
established a home in Concord the fol- 
lowing year, in the location where he 
continued to reside, making numerous 
improvements from time to time, 
throughout his life. Five children, a 
son and four daughters are the fruit of 
this union. The son, Charles O. 
Stearns is engaged in the office of the 
Old Colony Railroad in Boston. The 
eldest daughter, Mary, is the wife of 
Brevet Brigadier General John R. 
Brooke of the United States Army now 
engaged in the frontier sendee : the 
second daughter, Margaret, is now Mrs. 
Ingalls of North Adams, Mass. : the 
other daughters, Sarah and Grace, re- 
main with their mother at the family 
residence in Concord, where the hus- 
band and father, after a brief illness of 
a few days, quietly departed this life, 
December 29, 1878. 





The First Congregational Church in 
Concord was organized November 18, 
1730. The proprietors of the town, 
at a meeting in Andover. Mass., Feb- 
ruary 8, 1726, voted to build a block- 
house, which should serve the double 
purpose of a fort and a meeting-house. 
Early in 1727, the first family moved 
into the town, and Rev. Bezaleel Toppan 
was employed to preach one year from 
the 15th of May. Mr. Toppan and 
Rev. Enoch Coffin, both proprietors of 
the town, were employed by the settlers 
to preach till October 14. 1730, when it 
was resolved to establish a permanent 
ministry. Rev. Timothy Walker was 
at once called to be the minister of the 

A Council met November 18, 1730, 
and organized, " in this remote part of 
the wilderness," a church of eight mem- 
bers, and Rev. Timothy Walker was 
installed its pastor. The Sermon by 
Rev. John Barnard, of Andover, Mass., 
was from Prov. 9 : 1-3. The Charge 
to the Pastor was by Rev. Samuel Phil- 
lips, of Andover, and the Right-hand 
of Fellowship by Rev. John Brown, of 
Haverhill, Mass. The church was ortho- 
dox and stable in its faith, and during 
the long ministry of Mr. Walker — fifty- 
two years — it was united and prosperous. 
Strong in the confidence and affection 
of the people, Mr. Walker always and 
actively opposed any thing which threat- 
ened division in the church or the town. 

It is impossible to measure accurately 
the growth of the church during this 
period, owing to incompleteness of the 
records. No regular record is found 
after 1736, and the names of those who 
owned the covenant are gathered only 
in part, and these from entries made in 
his diary. While the names of only 
ninety-five who united with the church 
are known, many more than this must 

have become members, for, at the instal- 
lation of his successor, though but few 
of those whose names were recorded 
were alive, there were one hundred and 
twenty members. The growth of the 
church must, therefore, have been nr r id 
for those days, and its prosperity, s:ab- 
ility and influence in the town and 
throughout the state are proof of a 
faithful ministry. 

Rev. Timothy Walker, a. m., was a 
native of Woburn, Mass., and a gradu- 
ate of Harvard College, in the class of 
1725. His salary, at settlement, was 
;£ioo, to increase forty shillings per 
annum till it reached iji2o; also use 
of parsonage. He died suddenly, on 
Sabbath morning. September 1, 17S2, 
aged 77 years, deeply mourned by the 
people he had so faithfully served and 
led, and between whom and himself 
the mutual attachment had remained 
strong to the last.